
QassJDA_kI£ 
Book 



A TOUR 



THROUGH 



CORNWALL, 



AUTUMN OF 1808. 



A TOUR 



THROUGH 



CORNWALL, 

IN THE 

AUTUMN OF 1808. 



Rev d . Richard Warner, 

OF BATH. 



2« ytxg :r< xeivx Ttavrx. 
" Creation's Tenant, all the world is thine ! 




PRINTED B. 

RICHARD CRUTTWELL, ST. JAMEs's-STREET, BATH ; 
o 

AND SOLD BY 

WILKIE AND ROBINSON, PATER-NOSTER-ROW, LONDON. 



1809. 

CL 



THE NOBILITY AND GENTRY, 

THE CLEEGY, 

MINE-PROPRIETORS, tf MERCHANTS, 

OF 

CORNWALL, 

THE FOLLOWING WORK, 

AN HUMBLE, BUT GRATEFUL RETURN, 

FOR 

THE PLEASURE HE RECEIVED, 

THE INFORMATION HE ACQUIRED, 

AND 

THE HOSPITALITY HE EXPERIENCED, 

IN A TOUR 

THROUGH THAT COUNTY, 

IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 

BY THEIR OBEDIENT SERVANT, 

THE AUTHOR. 

BATH, FEB. 1, 1809. 



ITINERARY. 



Miles. 

from Bath to Exeter , by new road 7 8 

Chudleigh 9 

Ashburton 12 

Ivy Bridge ... 15 

Plymouth 10 

Dock 2 

Anthony, by Tremarton and Mount Edg- 

cumbe 13 

East Looe 11 

Fowey 15 

St. Austle 7 

Truro 13 

Penrhyn 7 

Falmouth • 2 

Pendennis, and back 3 

St. Ives, by the Tolmen, Carn-bre, Dol- 

cooth, Phillack, &c. 3d 

Penzance 8 

Marazion, by Sennar, Logan-Stone, 

Mousehole, &c. 30 

Helston 10 

Truro, by Mullion, Lizard, Gweek, &c. 38 

St. Columb * 15 

Padstow, by Kistvaen, &c. • 12 

Tintagel, by Dinabole, &c. 15 



361 



[ iv ] 



Miles. 

Brought over 36 1 

Camelford, by Bossiney, &c. 8 

Stratton 18 

Kilkhampton • 4 

391 
Bath, by Holdsworthy, Hatherleigh, Ex- 
eter, &c. 130 

Total 521 



ERRATA. 

Page 70. 1. 18. for our, read his. 

97. 1. 4. insert more useful. 
1 14. 1. 20. for credit, read creditable. 
132. 1. 7. for 50, read 150. 
136. 1. 13, fpr county, read country. 
193. 1. 20. for form, read from. 
194. 1. 10. for course, read coarse. 
209. 1. 20. for noxious, read uxorious. 
218. 1. 10. for fades, read fade. 
217. 1. 10. for thoiv, read t/iroiv. 

lb. Note, 1. 2. for ^xi, read xxi. 
256. Note, 1. 3. for tutus, read tus. 

lb. 1.4. for ETrsXafis, read oc7teXu.@e. 

257.1. 1- f° r ««rei rea( i *"""• 

. lb. Note, 1. 1. for Poptzvoi, read Po[j.xioi. 

lb _ _ _ _ 1. 2. after ettei^v, insert Ss. 

lb. 1. 4. for tote, read ro<<r ; for ocOsXuaiv, read £0£y?Sc7<v ; 

for SxXoctXuv, read §xXa.rla,v. 
259. Note, 1. 5. for xars^Efsra/ read y.a.Tx(pz^ETa.u 
261.- - - - 1.8. for (piXoTsxyxs, read (piXorsyvus. 



' 




JT 




Wells ff 


BathjQJ 








Glastonbury Jj 
J'iper's-Inn g 




Boro 

Taun 
Wellington 




Kinp's 




> '' S *--^ W 


ugh Bridge q 

/ 

ten rj 


Collumpton 












Exeter .^jr 












Chudleigli ff 
<y*^Ashburton 













LETTER r. 
To WILLIAM JOHNSTON, Esq; 

my dear sir, Ashlur ton, July 25, 1808. 

THOUGH our correspondence has been inter- 
rupted for a considerable time, by a variety 
of circumstances, yet I trust you will allow me to 
renew it, with the same flattering readiness with 
which you originally assented to my request of 
commencing an epistolary intercourse between us. 

B 



[ 2 ] 

Happily, the continuance of friendship does not 
depend on the regular interchange of letters ; nor 
is it in the power of distance* to weaken esteem, 
or obliterate regard. The mind 9 independent of 
time and place, can perpetuate its partialities through 
all vicissitudes; and recolleclion, faithful to her office, 
preserves within it the image of our friends, though 
years elapse without the enjoyment of personal in- 
tercourse, or oceans separate us from these objects 
of our preference. 

These are sentiments, which I am sufficiently 
acquainted with you, to be assured you will concur 
in ; I shall not therefore offer any apology for again 
using a privilege that has never been withdrawn 
from me, and from the renewed exercise of which I 
anticipate as much future pleasure, as I have expe- 
rienced past satisfaction. Yet it must not be con- 
cealed, that however greatly my inclination may be 
gratified in once more addressing you through the 
medium of pen, ink, and paper, my ^conscience will 
be relieved at the same time in nearly a similar 
proportion; since I shall be performing a promise, 
which, though made some years since, has never yet 
been fulfilled, and paying a debt that has been equally 

* The gentleman to whom these letters are addressed ha* 
been for some years a resident in a foreign country. 



I s ] 

long undischarged, and is the more burthensome to 
me from its having been voluntarily contracted. 

You will perceive that I allude to the Letters I 
had the pleasure of addressing to you in 1799;* in 
the first of which I undertook to conduct you to the 
Western extremity of our Isle, and introduce to your 
notice whatever particulars Cornwall might offer 
worth communicating to my friend. Circumstances, 
however, which I could neither foresee, nor have 
controlled, had they been anticipated, prevented me 
from executing the plan I had chalked out for 
myself, and fulfilling the engagement I had con- 
tracted with yoiu Necessity compelled me to 
return, as soon as I had reached the Eastern limits 
of the county I purposed to perambulate; and I 
came home, with my curiosity ungratified with 
respect to the most interesting feature of my pro- 
jected tour, but with my experience enriched by 
another proof of the delusive nature of hope, and 
the uncertainty of all anticipated enjoyment. 

You will smile at me, perhaps, that, whilst I am 
boasting of this addition to my wisdom, I should at 
the same time be neglecting its dictates, and again 
promising myself pleasures in perspective, the real- 
izing of which a thousand accidents may again pre- 



* Warner's Western Walk, 1 vol. oclavo. 
B 2 



C * 1 

vent. But such, you know, is the nature of man : 
a sage in theory, he is a child in action; and like a 
child, forgets on the morrow the lesson he has 
been taught on the preceding day. Yet let him be 
content with his lot ; for if the delights of Hope be 
too frequently succeeded by the anguish of disap- 
pointment, their present enjoyment is still exquisite, 
and their ends noble and important. They enlighten 
the dark > and they sweeten the bitter of human 
life; they rouze to exertion, and animate to per- 
severance; they conquer difficulties, with which 
the mind, unsupported by their magic influence, 
would be unable to contend ; and they draw forth 
energies, that could only be awakened by their 
enlivening call : 

" Lo ! startled by Hope's heavenly ray, 
" With speed unwonted Indolence upsprings, 
<( And, heaving, lifts her leaden wings, 
" And sullen glides away." 

The circumstances, indeed, under which I have 
commenced my second Tour into the West, are suffi- 
ciently propitious to justify every pleasing prospect. 
The weather is fine and settled \ and in the ardent, 
cheerful, and benevolent W— -, I have a compa- 
nion, who, whilst he promises to direct my curiosity, 
and assist my enquiries, will enliven every incident 



[ 5 ] 

r hat may occur, and. spread a sunshine over the 
excursion, which could never accompany a solitary 
journey. 

Our course, for the first thirty miles, led us 
through a country with which you are already 
acquainted. In the ancient city of Wells, we 
again contemplated, with mingled delight and won- 
der, the magnificent specimens of an architecture, 
which, though the production of a comparatively 
barbarous age, defies all the efforts of modern 
science to imitate : But whilst we confessed the 
extinction of a style of building which so happily 
combined the beautiful with the august, we are 
comp i i to allow the palm of taste to our contem- 
poraries, by the elegant, judicious, and appropriate 
improvements in the Episcopal Palace made by the 
present Diocesan. 

The decaying ruins of Glastonbury naturally 
awakened all the melancholy associations connected 
with the view of fallen greatness ; nor were our 
minds exhilarated, by observing, that the venerable 
old Market-Cross, which for centuries had adorned 
the town, was now removed, and had 

J - - e< left its place 

" A seat for emptiness." 

We were detained for a short time by the blue 
lias quarries of Street, which underlie the surface 



[ 6 ] 

of the flat country in its neighbourhood, to a con- 
siderable extent. The stone is deposited in beds 
from three to six inches in depth ; and these strata 
are so uniform in thickness, as to afford materials 
for building, equal in regularity to brick, without 
any other process, than that of merely breaking 
them into masses small enough for the purpose. 
The lias takes a polish sufficiently fine to render it 
applicable to the uses which marble usually serves. 
It also produces many elegant specimens of the 
Mytilus, Cornu Ammonis, Cochlea, &c. enriched by 
those splendid pyritical crystallizations which are 
common to organized fossils of a similar habitat. 

We found the inhabitants of the country around 
us deeply deploring the effects of a storm that had 
recently occurred ; nor did their lamentations appear 
to be unfounded. They described the circum- 
stances of this tempest (whose violence was almost 
unprecedented in the records of modern English 
meteorology) in terms which proved that its visit- 
ation had made a deep and awful impression on their 
minds. It occurred on Friday the 15th of July, 
and seemed to approach them from the East ; when, 
having exercised its fury chiefly on their neighbour- 
hood, it sailed slowly away in a Westerly direction, 
towards the mouth of the Bristol Channel. The 
thunder that attended it, unlike that customary 



r 7 ] 

accompaniment of a tempest in theTemperate Zones, 
was not intermittent, but continuous; roaring unin- 
terruptedly for upwards of three hours ; whilst 
quickly-succeeding streams of lightning wrapped 
the atmosphere in a perpetual blaze. Bat the most 
tremendous circumstance connected with it was a 
shower of hail-stones, or rather of masses of ice, 
which rattled down for upwards of forty minutes. 
Irregular in shape, and unusual in magnitude, (for 
many of them measured nine inches in circumfe- 
rence,) these masses appeared to be fragments of a 
vast plate of ice, formed by sudden congelation in 
some very high and intensely cold region of the 
atmosphere, which, as it descended, had been broken 
into the smaller portions that covered the ground. 
During the whole of this terrifying scene, the pro- 
gress of the tempest was opposed by a strong wind 
from the north west, peculiarly hollow and mournful 
in its sound, affording no incomplete idea of what 
Ossian calls, " the voice of the Spirit of the Storm." 
Its course was marked by ruin and destruction. The 
labours of the husbandman fell an early and an easy 
prey to its violence. Promising harvests were in a 
short time totally destroyed : and we saw many 
corn-fields in which there was little more appearance 
of grain, than if they had just yielded their riches 
to the hand of the reaper. Those windows of 



C 3 ] 

dwelling-houses which stood in the direction of its 
march, had scarcely a single pane unbroken ; the 
glass of every hot-house was smashed to atoms ; the 
smaller plants and shrubs were beaten to the ground j 
many trees were nearly stripped of their foliage ; 
and the roads were strewed with the smaller branches 
\of others. Nor was its havock confined to inani- 
mate nature alone. Several cattle were killed or 
injured : two or three labourers were struck by the 
lightning ; and no less than five hundred rooks were 
destroyed by the masses of ice, within the cir- 
cumference of four miles round Piper's-Inn. In a 
word, it appeared to have been one of the most 
terrible storms that this country had ever expe- 
rienced ; and to have realized that sublime descrip- 
tion of an elemental tumult, which our Bard of 
Nature, when he penned the picture, probably only 
intended as a creation of fancy : 



"Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail, 

" Or prone-descending rain. Wide-rent the clouds 

" Pour a whole flood : and yet, its flame unquench'd., 

". Tii' unconquerable lightning struggles through., 

" Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, 

{i And fires the mountains, with redoubled rage. 

" Bkck from the stroke, above, the smould'ring pine 

" Stands a sad,, shatter'd trunk 5 and,, stretch'd below^ 



C 3 ] 

** A lifeless group, the blasted cattle lie : 

" Here, the soft flocks, with that same harmless look 

" They wore alive, and ruminating still 

** In fancy's eye; and there the frowning bull, 

" And ox half-rais'd. Struck on the castled cliff, 

" The venerable tow'r, and spiry fane 

" Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods 

" Start at the flash, and from their deep recess, 

" Wide flaming out, their trembling inmates shake."- 



At PiperVInn we quitted the road I had taken 
in my former tour, and pursued the new one, which 
was formed three or four years ago, for the purpose 
of saving six miles between this place and the town 
of Taunton. It runs in nearly a strait line for about 
fourteen miles, crossing the moors in its course, and 
joining the old turnpike at Warborne Lodge. Of 
this distance six miles are entirely new road, made 
over a low and flat country, which heretofore in the 
winter time had been generally covered with water. 
The road is raised above the level, and spread on a 
thick layer of faggots, so that it bids fair to be 
sufficiently durable. There is no doubt that much 
convenience is gained by this recent alteration. 
Time and expence are both saved \ which is of 
course a sufficient recommendation to the private 
traveller to take it in preference to the old turnpike j 



though, as it does not include Bridgewater in its 
course, the public vehicles still continue to run the 
former stages. With this conviction of its conve- 
nience on our minds, you will be surprised perhaps 
at the weakness of our judgment, or the singularity 
of our scepticism, when I say, that whilst we 
availed ourselves of the short cut which it afforded 
ns to the place of our destination for the night, we 
could not help doubting whether or not the great 
improvements which had been made of late years 
in the English public roads, could be fairly consi- 
dered as promotive of the real happiness of our 
country. Are they not, said we, the means by 
which luxury spreads her poison from large towns 
Into the quiet retreats of rural simplicity? Have 
they not a tendency to injure the morals and pervert 
the manners of the country, by importing thither 
the vices and habits and fashions of corrupted cities ? 
Do they not enable the idle and the dissipated to 
overwhelm the sequestered abodes of contented 
industry, and by exhibiting new and dazzling modes 
of life, to excite expensive emulation, or envious dis- 
satisfaction? And are not the visits of the rich and 
extravagant ramblers, who by these means penetrate 
with ease into the most remote recesses of the 
Island, invariably attended with a rise in the cost of 
every article of life, in the places to which they are 



[ n 3 

thus perpetually 'migrating? It is true, indeed, to 
all this may be answered, that the present conveni- 
ence of travelling throughout England facilitates the 
intercourse of distant places ; gives activity to the 
internal trade of the country; and above all, improves, 
promotes, and extends civilization through the land. 
Allowing thus much, however, 1 would still contend, 
we are yet without sufficient proof that the improve- 
ments in our public roads are promotive of the real 
happiness of our country. Frequent and intimate 
intercourse gives wings to corruption, and makes 
that licentiousness general, which, without its aid, 
would be only partial. Internal trade, beyond a 
certain limit, is the parent of luxury and profuse 
expense ; of which the one only increases our 
wants, and the other, in endeavouring to satisfy 
them, plunges us into misery and ruin ; and civili- 
zation is an ambiguous term, being either a good 
or an evil, a blessing or a curse, according to the 
degree to which it has arrived, or the measure 
which it has exceeded. Indeed, there is no ques- 
tion relating to the happiness of man in his aggre- 
gate character so difficult to be determined, as the 
exa& point at which civilization should stop in order 
to produce the greatest possible degree of public 
felicity. To me, I confess, it appears, that all the 
writers on political ceconomy are equally distant 



C J2 ] 

from the truth in their reasonings on this subject- 
Without, however, attempting to settle the dispute 
between the disciples of Rousseau and the follow- 
ers of Adam Smith, I would lay this axiom down as 
an incontrovertible one ; that, in proportion as civi- 
lization is promotive of virtue, morality, and religion 
amongst a people, so far is it a source of public 
felicity ; but, on the contrary, that it becomes sub- 
versive of real national happiness, in the exact ratio 
of its producing opposite effecls to these on the 
general character of a country. Whether or not 
our admirable turnpike-roads are likely to have any 
influence in giving either, or which, of these colour- 
ings to the English moral character, I leave it to 
you to determine. 

The gloom of these speculations was however 
in some degree dispersed, on our being informed, 
that in consequence of the new road, and an Acl for 
Inclosure, a prodigious rise had taken place in the 
value of the land through which it runs. Six and 
twenty thousand acres had been rescued from the 
winter's floods, drained, cultivated, and raised in 
annual rent from 5s. to 45s. and three guineas per 
acre. Noble crops of corn were now waving over 
large districts of land which had formerly been 
the exclusive possession of the gander, his wife, 
and famiiy > and large herds of black cattle were 



C 13 ] 

grazing and fattening on rich inclosures that here- 
tofore could only have been trodden by the light 
step of the adventurous snipe-shooter. 

A short time before we reached Borough-Bridge, 
we were induced to quit the turnpike in order to 
examine a little stone structure to the left hand, 
which appeared to have been raised in commemo- 
ration of some remarkable person or event. We 
found it to be elegant in design, and neat in work- 
manship; and bearing the following inscription z 

" KING ALFRED THE GREAT, 

fe In the year of our Lord 8~Q, having been defeated by the 
" Danes, fled for refuge to the Forest of Athelney, where 
<{ he lay concealed from his enemies for the space of a 
*' whole year. He foon after resigned the possession of 
" his throne, and in grateful remembrance of the pro^ 
** te&ion he had received under the favour of Heaven, 
fe erected a Monastery on this spot ; and endowed it with 
ce the land contained in the Isle of Athelney. 

<* To perpetuate the memory of so remarkable an incident 
" in the life of that illustrious prince, this edifice was 
" founded by John Slade, esq; of Mansol, the proprietor 
* c of Athelney Farm, and lord of the manor of North- 
" Petherton, A. D. 1801." 

It was not without considerable pleasure, and 
some little feeling of national vanity, that we recol- 
lected we were now on a spot, immortalized by the 



[ 14 3 

greatest public chara&er, perhaps, that adorns the 
page of history; and that this character was a coun- 
tryman of our own. To this secluded spot, after a 
strenuous conflict of nine years with the Danes, who 
in tumultuous crowds had over-run and laid waste 
the Eastern part of his dominions, was Alfred under 
the necessity of retiring, with a few faithful adhe- 
rents. Here he concealed himself for the space of 
a year, employing the period of his concealment in 
arranging those measures, and making those prepa- 
tions, which enabled him to retaliate with a dreadful 
vengeance upon his enemies, and by their signal 
overthrow at Eddington, to reduce them to uncon- 
ditional submission. It was here that he exhi- 
bited that exalted proof of his beneficence, when he 
supplied the wants of an hungry beggar, by giving 
him the only loaf in his possession, and left himself 
without a meal ; and was rewarded for his humanity 
by an unhoped-for and almost miraculous supply of 
provision. And it was from hence he made his cele- 
brated visit to the Danish camp, in the disguise of a 
harper, which gave him an opportunity of observing 
the carelesness and want of discipline of his enemies, 
and enabled him to attack them with that success 
which crowned the Battle of Eddington. When 
we consider the conduct of this great man under the 
strange reverses to which he was at different times 



C 15 1 

exposed, It is difficult to say whether he is most the 
object of admiration in prosperity or adversity. His 
moderation in the one, and his firmness in the other, 
were equally uncommon and exemplary. In short, 
viewed either as a legislator, a warrior, a scholar, 
a philosopher, or a Christian, I think we may ven- 
ture to say, that the character of Alfred stands 
unrivalled in the history of the world; and every 
way deserves the splendid eulogies which have been 
accumulated upon it. 

Would to Heaven, that encomium and desert were 
always as legitimately joined together, as in this 
instance ! But it is melancholy to reflect how 
seldom this is the case ; how few of what the 
world calls great men, can claim the applause of the 
wise, or the approbation of the good ; how infre- 
quently the character of the trite hero appears ; or 
how rarely the conqueror deserves the blessings of 
mankind! I may be f'aftidious, or perhaps forget- 
ful ; but at present none such occur to my recol- 
lection, save the august subject of the present 
page, and the illustrious deliverer of America : 

i( Thou, patriot conqueror! — 

" — — - Who in the western world 

" Thine own cfelivered country, for thyself 

** Hadst planted an immortal grove, and there, 

<e Upon the glorious mount of liberty 

** Reposing, sat'st beneath the palmy shade." 



[ 16 1 

In pious gratitude to Heaven for the success that 
had been granted him, (as the inscription relates,) 
and with a natural predilection for the place which 
had afforded him refuge and protection, Alfred, after 
his restoration to empire, founded a Monastery 
at Althelney (or the Isle of Nobles) for Benedic- 
tine Monks ; and dedicated it to St. Saviour, and 
St. Peter. It subsisted till the Reformation, when 
Robert Hamlyn the abbot, with nine monks, sur- 
rendered it, together with its possessions, which 
were then valued at 209/. ex. $d. per annum.* 



# William of Malmesbury gives the following account of the 
monastery, and the place on which it was constructed: " Athelney 
" is not an island of the sea; but is so inaccessible, on account of 
n bogs and the inundations of the lakes, that it cannot be got to 
" but in a boat. It has a very large wood of alders, which harbours 
" stags, wild-goats, and other beasts. The firm land, which is 
u only two acres in breadth, contains a little monastery, and dweU 
" lings for monks. Its founder was King Alfred, who, being driven 
" over the country by the Danes, spent some time here in secure 
" privacy. Here in a dream St. Cuthbert appearing to him, and 
<f giving him an assurance of his restoration, he vowed that he 
"would build a monastery to God. Accordingly he erected a 
" church, moderate indeed as to size, but as to method of construc- 
" tion singular and novel : for four piers, driven into the ground, 
"support the whole fabrick, four circular eh ancels being drawn 
" round it. The monks are few in number, and indigent ; but they 
" are sufficiently compensated for their poverty by the tranquillity 
" of their lives, and their delight in solitude." 



[ 17 ] 

Close to the hamlet of Borough-Bridge, and near 
the conflux of the rivers Parret and Thone, a large 
mound or barrow to the left hand, which gives 
name to the neighbouring village, attracted our atten- 
tion. From the regularity of its form, we imme- 
diately judged it to be at least partly artificial ; and 
this idea of its origin was strongly confirmed, when 
We learnt that the materials of which it is composed, 
are not found within three miles of the spot which 
the barrow occupies. Its summit is crowned by 
an ancient chapel dedicated to St. Michael, who by 
the bye seems to have been complimented with 
these elevated situations, probably from his being 
the head or chief of the angelical hierarchies. 
Having fallen into ruins, it has of late years been 
repaired and modernized. From the loftiness of this 
mound, swelling boldly out of a wide level, and 
towering far above the adjoining country, it appeared 
to be peculiarly adapted to the use to which it was 
originally dedicated ; for as the district around 
exhibited only a woody marsh, without roads cut 
through it to any particular spot, it was indispens- 
able to place the house of worship in a conspicuous 
situation, that the inhabitants might the more easily 
find their way to this place of public meeting. 
The Barrow, however, does not appear to have 
been always the pacific scene of prayer and thanks- 

c 



[ 18 ] 

giving. During the disturbances of the seventeenth 
century, it served far different purposes -, and echoed 
the tumults of warfare, the shouts of triumph, and 
the cry of defeat. Goring having seized its summit, 
garrisoned it with 120 men, and made a gallant and 
successful resistance against the Parliamentary forces. 
Nor was it taken from the Royalists, till after the 
battle of Langport ; when all hope of relief being 
extinguished, and a formidable body of forces 
being prepared to attack it, the governor was com- 
pelled to surrender the place he had so long and so 
nobly defended. 

We now entered the most fertile part of the 
county of Somerset, the broad and luxuriant valley 
celebrated through the kingdom by the name of 
Taunton-Dean;* a rich expanse of meads, pas- 
tures, and corn-fields, 

----- « Where Plenty, with disporting hand, 

" Pours all the fruits of Amalthea's horn ; 

" Where Ceres with exuberance enrobes 

" The pregnant bosom of the fields with gold." 

Art, indeed, has lent her assistance to Nature in 
enriching this productive discnct, by making the 
river Thone, which waters it, navigable from Bridge- 

* i. e, Taunton VaJley, from the Saxon Den. 



[ f9 1 

water to Taunton ; a navigation that not only gives 
ardour to the industry of the country through which 
it passes, but confers upon Taunton itself the wealth, 
beauty, and respectability it enjoys. Indeed there 
are few towns in the West of England, which can 
vie with this in either of these particulars. Its 
woollen and silk manufactures have poured a full 
tide of opulence into it : elegant public buildings? 
substantial private dwellings, wide and uniform 
streets, and broad commodious pavements, give it 
an air of peculiar elegance and neatness y and the 
police of the place, at once vigilant and vigorous^ 
confer upon it a weight of character, that cannot be 
boasted by many other towns. This last excel- 
lence of Taunton may, perhaps, be in part ascribed 
to the nature of its charter, which wisely precludes 
its corporation from possessing either lands, houses, 
or joint stock. Hence it is, that its municipality 
having no other means of ensuring respect, or 
maintaining influence, than their public good charac- 
ter, and the activity with which they perform the 
duties of their civil distinctions, are kept awake to 
the alert administration of those functions, which 
they are so apt to forget or neglect, who are 
" at ease in their possessions." 

From the remains of the Castle, which stand at 
the West side of the town, it should seem that, 

c 2 



[ 20 ] 

when originally erected by William Giffard, bishop 
of Winchester, in the reign of Henry I. it must 
have been a grand and spacious edifice. The Church 
also of St. Mary Magdalene, built in the thirteenth 
century, is a most beautiful example of the archi- 
tecture of that age. Its tower, like most of these 
members of ecclesiastical edifices in West Somerset, 
claims the praise of extreme elegance, lightness, 
and grace. 

Taunton, however, is not only attractive from its 
beauty, but venerable from its antiquity, and remark- 
able on account of its having been the scene of 
many memorable events. 

It was here, that Ina, the West-Saxon Justinian, 
digested and promulgated a code of laws (if indeed 
they be genuine) as remarkable for their wisdom, 
as they are amiable for their temperance and mild- 
ness. It was here, that the woollen manufacture 
was first established in England, being introduced 
into the town by a party of Dutch, who settled there 
in the year 1336. It was here, that the unfortunate 
Monmouth established his head-quarters, and caused 
himself to be proclaimed king, when, in 1685, he 
made his generous but unsuccessful attempt in behalf 
of his oppressed countrymen, against the despotism 
and bigotry of his inglorious uncle. Hither he 
hurried with rapidity as soon as he had landed at 



[ 21 j 

Lyme, expecting, from the zeal and number of the 
Protestant dissenters, who formed a great portion of 
its inhabitants, the most favourable reception. Nor 
were his expectations disappointed. "The inhabitants, 
of the upper as well as the lower classes, vied with 
each other in testifying their affection for his person, 
and their zeal for his cause. While the latter rent 
the air with applauses and acclamations, the former 
opened their houses to him and to his followers, 
and furnished his army with necessaries and supplies 
of every kind. His way was strewed with flowers - 
the windows were thronged with spectators, all 
anxious to participate in what the warm feelings of 
the moment made them deem a triumph : husbands 
pointed out to their wives, and mothers to their 
children, the brave and lovely Hero, who was des- 
tined to be the deliverer of his country. The 
beautiful lines which Dryden makes Achitophel, in 
his highest strain of flattery, apply to this unfor- 
tunate nobleman, were in this instance literally 
verified : 

" Thee, Saviour, thee, the nation's vows confess, 

" And never satisfied with seeing, ble&. 

" Swift unbespoken pomps thy steps proclaim, 

" And stammering babes are taught to lisp thy name." 

In the midst of these joyous scenes, twenty-six 
young maids, of the best families in the place, pre- 



[ 22 ] 

sented him, in the name of their townsmen, with 
colours wrought by them for the purpose, together 
with a bible; upon receiving which, he said, that he 
had taken the field, with a design to defend the 
truth contained in that book, and to seal it with 
his blood if there were occasion.* 

Alas ! my friend, how painful is it to pursue the 
history of Monmouth's progress; and after such a 
propitious commencement, to contemplate the sad 
3'everses that immediately succeeded — the fatal battle 
of Sedgemoor, and the ruin of his army; the cap- 
ture of the Duke, almost famished, and concealed 
in a ditch by a covering of fern and nettles ; the 
degradation of his self-accusation, and appeal to the 
compassion of his merciless uncle; the cold cruelty 
of the detestable monarch ; the Duke's condemna- 
tion to the scaffold ; and the affecting circumstance 
of his execution, when, after three ineffectual strokes 
of the axe, the headsman, in a fit of horror, threw 
down the instrument of death, and could be induced 
only by threats to make a second attempt, which 
by two further blows effected" the detestable act. 

Nor were these sad vicissitudes confined to the 
fortunes of the Duke and his immediate followers. 



* See Mr. Fox's masterly Historical Fragment, entitled the 
History of the Reign of James II. page 229. 



i 23 I 

The town of Taunton, which had witnessed the 
triumph of the commencement of his career, partook 
also of the sorrows of its termination. Here the 
blood-thirsty Kirk exercised all that licentious cru- 
elty which so generally marks the conduct of the 
unprincipled conqueror j and is, indeed, too often the 
spontaneous production of a profession, whose asso- 
ciations are necessarily more or less connected with 
murder, rapine, and devastation. One of his acts 
of indescribable villainy, which was exhibited at the 
White-Hart Inn in this place, Pomiret has selected 
for the foundation of his Poem of Cruelty and Lust, 
and thus perpetuated a tale of horror which one can- 
not help wishing had been expunged, from the 
recollection of mankind. Judge Jefferies, who 
was Kirk's coadjutor on this occasion, handed 
down his name also to posterity, by equal acts of 
atrocity, loaded with an equal share of odium and 
infamy.* One instance of his inhumanity is too 
detestable to be lost in general accusation. Mr. 
Benjamin Hewling was a young gentleman of twenty- 
two years of age, and a captain of horse in the 



* I almost feel vexed that the character of such an execra- 
ble villain as Jefferies, the tool of such an execrable Court as 
James the Second's, should have been handled in so tender a 
manner by Mr. Fox, in his History. (Vide p. QQ.) But this is 



[ 24 ] 

forces of the Duke. Having been detached to 
Minehead for cannon, he was not present at the 
battle of Sedgmoor; but being taken by a party of 
the royal horse after the conflict, was brought to 
Tauuton, and condemned by Jefferies to immediate 
death. His sister, Miss Hannah Hewling, suppli- 
cated this fiend of the law, for mercy on her brother, 
or at least a suspension pf the execution of the sen- 
tence, offering one hundred pounds for the respite 
of two days. In the thoughtless anguish of unspeak- 
able grief, she presented herself before the carriage 
of the Judge, seized with one hand the reins of the 
horses, and caught with the other the wheel of his 
coach. ct Drive over the pest," said the monster to 
the coachman ; " and lash her hands till she have 
" quitted her hold!" She with difficulty saved her- 
self from this threatened destruction; and could 
obtain nothing more by her dangerous efforts, than 
a reference to the pardon-monger of the day, who 
exacted the enormous sum of ioool. for a permission 
that her brother's remains might be buried in St. 
Mary Magdalen's church at Taunton. Hewling 



one amongst some few instances in that book, in which this 
mild and gentle writer appears to have suffered the stem 
claims of justice to have been silenced by the small still 
voice of his own amiable disposition. 



[ 25 ] 

died with a firmness and composure that did honour 
to the noble cause for which he suffered; and 
exacted even from the mouth of an enemy this 
unqualified praise: " If you would learn to die, 
" think of Mr. Hewling."* But enough of hor- 
rors and tyrants, violated laws, and oppressed 
subjects. 

The country from Taunton to Wellington pre- 
serves the same cheerful appearance of natural fer- 
tility, and productive cultivation, that had gladdened 
the eye for some miles past. Its plentifulness is 
indeed best established by the moderate price of 
all the articles of life here -, for the whole Vale 
of Taunton may be considered as cheaper than 
any part of England, under similar circumstances of 
resort and population. 

Wellington claimed our notice from the neat- 
ness of its present appearance, and our respect from 
its having been formerly the property ofAsserius, the 
favourite and biographer of the great Alfred, and 
one of the most antient, venerable, and authentic of 
our English historians.! Its church is a superb 

* Western Rebellion, p. 1, 2. 

«f Tan turn se ejus jidei triluere, quantum auctori antiquis- 
simo, gravissimo, optimoque omnium. Bale apud Vossium de 
Hist. Lat. 338. 



E 26 ] 

Gothic pile, with an embattled tower ; decorated 
with twelve pinnacles; and containing a fine monu- 
ment to the memory of Sir John Popham, chief 
justice of the Court of King's-Bench in the conclu- 
sion of Elizabeth's reign. The effigies of himself and 
his lady are sculptured at length upon the tomb. 

Quiring Somersetshire, about three miles from 
Wellington, we entered Devonshire at Blewet's- 
cross; and after a further progress of ten miles, 
reached the town of Cullumpton; remarkable for 
its handsome church, with the beautiful chapel it 
contains, built by John Lane, a wealthy clothier, in 
the fourteenth century ; a structure one should have 
thought far beyond the means of an humble trades- 
man, had we not recollected that the woollen 
manufacture was first established in these parts, and 
confined to them for a long period, during which 
time immense fortunes were made by those who 
preserved the monopoly of this lucrative branch of 
trade. We were also much struck by a venerable 
house in the town, a well-preserved specimen of 
the architecture of the fifteenth century. 

The magnificent scenery of Devonshire now 
opened upon us 3 sweeping hills and broad luxuriant 
vallies, backed to the north and west by the dark 
irregular summits of Exmoor. The picturesque 
effect, too, of the high banks which occasionally 



[ 27 ] 

bounded the road on either side, was not lost upon us; 
where the combination of the red highly-carbonated 
earth, and the green foliage spread over its face, 
produced a most agreeable harmony of colouring. 
The vivid vegetation of the low parts of Devon- 
shire is indeed almost proverbial with artists ; and 
the chief of English painters, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
used to assert that the verdure in the neighbourhood 
of Exeter, Bath, and Bristol, was the richest in the 
kingdom. 

In the happiest part of this scenery stands Killer- 
ton, the elegant mansion of Sir Thomas Acland, 
skreened to the north-east by a superb traft of 
wood, and commanding a view, if not extensive, at 
least beautifully diversified. 

Evening had almost overtaken us before we 
gained the summit of Stoke hill, almost two miles 
from Exeter; but she had not as yet so completely 
drawn her " gradual dusky veil" over the scenery, as 
to rob us of the pleasure, or prevent the admiration, 
which it is so well calculated to afford and excite. 
Immediately before us lay the suburbs of Exeter, 
its venerable city, and majestic cathedral. The 
frowning heights of Exmoor closed the view to the 
north-west. To the left, the river Exe rolled tran- 
quilly through its valiies to the sea, which formed 
the horizontal line in that quarter. The interme- 



[ 2« ] 

diate space was filled up with" hamlets, brown and 
" dim-discovered spires ;" meads, corn-fields, and 
woods, " uncertain if beheld," and, in a word, all 
the other constituents of a grand picture, " stretched 
out immense," and infinitely diversified. 

Has it ever been your fate, my friend, to enter a 
large inn at the close of day, when all its apartments 
were completely occupied, and every one of its 
attendants with more business upon his individual 
hands than three could well perform ? If so, you 

will figure to yourself the situation of W and 

myself when we reached the L — Inn, hungry and 
jaded, and found ourselves in a house that made up 
seventy beds, and whose waiters were as thick 
as rabbits in a warren, but where no arts of per- 
suasion, or airs of authority, could have procured 
the least attention to our pressing wants. But how 
efficacious are the virtues of patience and good- 
humour in remedying " the miseries of human life ! " 
By having recourse to these, our inconveniencies 
began gradually to disappear; and we at length 
found ourselves in possession of all the accommoda- 
tion we could have wished, and treated with all the 
hospitality, to say the least of it, that our humble 
appearance deserved. 

As the term of our absence from home was limit- 
ed, and our chief attention intended to be directed 



[ 29 ] 

to Cornwall, our stay in Exeter was not delayed 
beyond the time necessary to catch a glance at its 
many curiosities. We took a transient survey of 
the massive Saxon cathedral, and its numerous inte- 
resting monuments. We ascended to Rougemont, 
which having served the purpose of a Roman, and 
poffibly anterior to that time, of a British post, was 
afterwards the residence of the West-Saxon mo- 
narchs j devolved then upon the Earls of Cornwall; 
and contains now the civil and criminal Courts for 
the county. We rambled through the gardens of 
Mr. Granger, by the Castle-gate, on the scite of the 
ditch, the striking beauties of which are formed 
from a combination of natural charms, the remains 
of antiquity, and the improvements of modern 
taste. Mr. Edward Upham, with a ready and kind 
politeness that increased the weight of the obligation, 
gratified us with a sight of the Roman Penates, or 
domestic gods, which were dug up on his premises; 
and this classical feast was still further heightened 
by the large and valuable collection of Keiserman's 
Drawings of Ancient Remains in Italy, which we 
were permitted to inspect by the obliging civility 
of its owner, Mr. Russell, jun. 

The road to Chudleigh conducted us over Hall- 
Down, an elevated, dreary heath, but commanding 
a view of the utmost magnificence ; a magnificence, 



[ 30 ] 

in the words of Johnson, like that ascribed to a Chi- 
nese plantation, the magnificence of vast extent and 
endless diversity, With all its attractions, how- 
ever, we congratulated ourselves that we had to 
traverse its broad and exposed summit in the sum- 
mer instead of the winter; when it is so beaten by 
the fury of the south-westerly gales, that the travel- 
ler is scarcely able to maintain his footing; or so 
covered by a sheet of snow, that he can only dis- 
cover the proper road by the posts which are ranged 
along its side for his direction. 

One of the chief characteristics of the scenery of 
Devonshire is the striking contrast perpetually 
recurring in it of hopeless barrenness to extreme 
fertility, of bare and craggy mountains to luxuriant 
wooded vallies. An example of this was before us 
when we descended from the region of storm and 
sterility just described, into the delightful Vale 
of Chudleigh. Here every thing is concentrated, 
that can delight the eye of the painter: rock, 
wood, water, meads, and fields waving with abun- 
dant harvests. It is a tract, indeed, to which may 
be applied with the utmost justice the terse descrip- 
tion of the Lacedaemonian reign of Amycles, by 
Polybius, TG7ros xotXiSevtiooTctTog, noa ycocXiXot^iro^ 
TaToS) a place at once most beautifully wooded, 
and most exuberantly productive. 



[ 31 ] 

I had in my former series of Letters made you 
acquainted with the pleasing little town of Chud- 
leigh, seated in the bottom of this picturesque and 
quiet vale. The description, however, which I then 
gave you of it, will by no means apply to its present 
appearance. Since that time, an awful visitation 
has completely changed its character — a dreadful 
Fire, that consumed almost every house in the place. 
But it is now recovering from the calamity ; and rising, 
like a phoenix from the flames, into superior beauty, 
and greater extent than before. As the devastation 
was almost general, (for upwards of 170 of the 
houses were destroyed by it,) so will its improve- 
ment be general also. The small, inconvenient, 
thatched dwellings, which fell before the conflagra- 
tion, are replaced by larger, better planned, and 
nearly uniform stone houses, covered with a neat 
blue slate; which, though they render the town 
less a picturesque object than before, give k the 
pleasing appearance of greater wealth, and more 
extended comfort. It is gratifying to reflect, that 
Chudlcigh has obtained this increase of beauty 
and respectability, -without the loss of a single life, 
and with trifling injury to the property of its inha- 
bitants; the circumstance of the fire happening in the 
day-time having prevented the one, and the liberal 
contributions of benevolent persons through the 



t 32 ] 

kingdom having raiset^ a sum nearly adequate to 
cover the other. The impression, however, made 
upon the minds of the inhabitants by the accident 
was deep and awful; nor is it yet mentioned by any 
of them without strong impressions of horror and 
dismay. The fire happened on the 1 2d of May, 
1807, in consequence of a baker throwing the hot 
ashes of his oven near a heap of straw. This was 
quickly in a blaze; and communicated its flames to 
an adjoining house. A brisk wind, in an unfavour- 
able direction, drove them on to neighbouring dwel- 
lings, and as the habitations were all covered with 
thatch, the whole town in a few hours was one 
heap of smoking ruins. The situation of the unfor. 
lunate people, in the mean time, may be better 
imagined than described. The lamentations of 
women, and the cries of children, the shrieks of 
horror, and the groans of despair, mingled with the 
rearing of the flames, the crash of falling houses, 
and the din of universal confusion, induced by the 
instantaneous visitation of a calamity, (which, under 
its least alarming circumstances, is peculiarly terri- 
fying,) must have produced an effect, which the 
mind cannot contemplate without the deepest agita- 
tion; nor perhaps could fancy frame a picture more 
calculated to affect sensibility by the fad reverse that 
it exhibits, than the quiet inhabitants of this seques- 



[ 33 ] 

tered spot, hitherto the residence of peace, content, 
and joy, plunged in a moment as it were into agony, 
horror, and ruin. The sympathy excited in the 
public mind by the catastrophe was answerable to 
its distressful magnitude. A general subscription 
for the sufferers was opened throughout the king- 
dom, which in a few months amounted to up- 
wards of 20,000/. This, together with insurances, 
amounting to 15,498/. and the value of the scites, 
6745/. produced an aggregate that made up the 
losses of the 400 claimants, within 7500/. of the 
sum required. It is but justice to the philanthropic 
conductors of this subscription to add, that the dis- 
tribution of it was conducted with the highest 
honour, justice, and feeling ; and what is still more 
surprising, to the complete satisfaction of those who 
were the objects of it. You will be shocked to be 
told, there is every reason to suspect, that the author 
of this calamity was an intentional agent in produ- 
cing it. Indeed he seems to have confirmed the 
general opinion of his sublime villainy by having 
immediately decamped from the place, and concealed 
himself so effectually, that no one at present knows 
where he is. 

The romantic features of Chudleigh valley are, 
perhaps, viewed to the best effect for the first 
mile on the Ashburton road. The great marble 

D 



[ 8* ] 

quarry is here caught, with its accompaniments of 
workmen and machinery, overhung by solemn shades; 
the little river of East Teign is seen rattling through 
the bottom over its stony bed, bestrid by an old 
bridge of three arches, finely festooned with ivy ; a 
noble wood covers the declivity of a rapid hill that 
rises to the right, which is opposed on the left hand 
by another swell of equal beauty. The interme- 
diate space is filled with cottage residences, built 
in a style of architecture appropriate to the scenery f ; 
and behind, the town of Chudleigh is partly seen 
through the wood, by which it is nearly embosomed. 

Stover House, the seat of Templar, esq; 

recedes half a mile from the turnpike-road, on the 
left hand, nearly mid-way between Chudleigh and 
Ashburton. The mansion, the village church, and 
a few little cottages, scattered amongst the sur- 
rounding wood, produce a very agreeable combina- 
tion of objects, which are further diversified by a 
good artificial sheet of water, spread in front of the 
house, apparently formed by the judicious manage- 
ment of a small stream that trickles from the distant 
hills, and winds through the moor in their bottom. 
It is to this broad flat, and the steep declivities 
beyond it, that Stover House is indebted for the 
view it enjoys ; a view both singular and striking, 
stretching over a wide expanse of moor, meadow, 



C 35 ] 

and wood, and terminated by the fantastic heights 
of Dartmoor Forest. 

As we approached the environs of Ashburton, 
our curiosity was excited by several parties of 
decent looking men, whom we overtook, walking 
slowly towards the town. From their conversing in 
a language which we did not understand, we quickly 
discovered that they were foreigners ; but to what 
nation they belonged, we were unable to determine. 
A peculiar manliness in their appearance, and a 
sedateness in their manner, convinced us they were 
not Frenchmen ; whilst the animation of their coun- 
tenances, and the ardour of their conversation, were 
totally unlike the gloom and reserve of the Spaniard. 
When we reached our quarters, one of our first 
enquiries was, who these strangers (many more of 
whom we saw in the town) might be? to which we 
received for answer, that they were Danes, who 
had been detained in England at the time of the 
Copenhagen Expedition, and sent as prisoners to 
Ashburton. The information was like an eleclrical 
fhockto us ; we blufhed cc rosy red" for our coun- 
try; and W — , with the happiest readiness, quoted 
the pathetic apostrophe of the Psalmist : — " For it 
" is not an open enemy that hath done this dis- 
" honour, for then could I have borne it : 

D 2 



u 



[ 36 ] 

ct Neither was it mine adversary that did mag^ 

nify himself against me; for then peradventure 
" I would have hidden myself from him: 

" But it was even thou, my companion, my guide, 
Ci and mine own familiar friend." 

I assented to the propriety of the present applica- 
tion of the passage, and added a wish that Heaven 
would avert from the transgressors the malediction 
which immediately followed his quotation. 

1 am, my dear Sir, 

Your's sincerely, 

R. W. 



di 




LETTER II. 



TO THE SAME. 



MY DEAR SIR, PlyVlOlttk-Docl, Altg. 2. 

WE had been recommended to the London 
Inn at Ashburton, kept by Mr. Lloyd, 
the intelligent ciceroni of the place; and had 
hoped under his guidance to have visited the many 
beautiful spots in the neighbourhood of the town* 
But, alas ! we found his family sorrowing for the 



[ 33 ] 

loss of a tender husband, an affectionate father, and 
a sincere friend ; seeking consolation, however, in 
their grief from the recollection that he had left 
behind him " the everlasting memorial " of a good 
name, and carried to his " dread abode" the fair 
testimony of an upright, beneficent, and useful life. 
Should the separation of connections be deemed so 
overwhelming an evil as it usually is, when such is the 
solace of those who are spared, and such the pass- 
port of the departed? No! let nature and affection 
have their tribute ; but let not the claims of reason 
and religion be disregarded. To sorrow as those 
without hope, for the virtuous dead, is ungratefully 
to refuse the cup of comfort mingled by Heaven for 
the survivor, and selfishly to regret the certain feli- 
city of " those who have died in the Lord." 

Disappointed in our hope of finding a guide 
who would have conducted us to whatever was 
remarkable in the neighbourhood of Ashburton, we 
were left to our own researches, which, though 
less successful than they might have been under 
the direction of one who was better acquainted with 
the country than ourselves, were, notwithstanding, 
far from unproductive of entertainment to us. 
In the course of our ramble we visited the lead- 
mine, recently opened on the heights of Dartmoor, 
about two miles to the north of the town, where a 



[ m ] 

hundred men are employed in raising and dressing 
ore, worth, in its rough state, we were told, 30/, 
per ton. From hence we stretched across to the 
Dart, and viewed, though at a distance, Buckland 
in the Moor, the seat of — — Bastard, esq; and 
Spitchwick-park, one of the Devonshire residences 
of Lady Ashburton, situated on the edge of the 
Moor, at the distance of five miles from Ashburton. 
Both these elegant places are indebted to the scenery 
of the Dart for their most striking beauties. Here, 
indeed, this celebrated river begins to assume its 
characteristic charms, and to exhibit all its varieties 
of rock, wood, and precipices; the hills now rece- 
ding in gentle acclivities from its tranquil surface ; 
and now .hemming in, and frowning over, its exas- 
perated waters. Perhaps there are few residences 
in the kingdom (with the exception of Chatsworth) 
more marked by the agreeable effe&s of contrast, 
than the two just mentioned; commanding views of 
the richest diversity, in the immediate neighbour- 
hood of dreary wastes. 

The town of Ashburton aifords little to engage 
attention. It is partly situated in a bottom, stretch- 
ing up the sides of the hills to the east and west. 
Being one of the four Stannary towns for the tin 
mines of Devonshire, it seems to have been a place 
of some consequence in ancient times. Together 



[ 40 ] 

with Plympton, Tavistock, and Chagford, it sends its 
Jurats to the occasional meetings of the Mining Par- 
liaments, held at Crockern Torr, a high hill in the 
center of Dartmoor, where the legislative business 
of the Devonshire tin mines is transacted. Formerly 
the concerns of this assembly were important, as 
well as numerous : but little, save the form of the 
meeting, now remains. 

The circumstance of its modern history, which 
reflects the greatest credit upon Ashburton, is that 
of its being the birth-place of John Dunning Lord 
Ashburton; and well may it be proud of a produc- 
tion of such rare value, and extensive utility, of a 
man of such great natural powers, and unusual 
acquirements. The general knowledge of the late 
Lord Ashburton was as solid as diversified; and 
his acquaintance with every branch of human in- 
formation that bore upon his profession, as clear as 
it was profound. To these endowments he added 
an eloquence ready, exuberant, and animated ; 
which, though its full effect was a little obstructed 
by a trifling defect in manner, never failed to enchain 
the attention, to captivate the mind, and to convince 
the judgment. Perhaps one of the happiest compli- 
ments ever paid to a man for the possession of this 
enchanting faculty, was a reply of Dr. Johnson's, 
on a little recital of Mr. Boswell's, which respected 



[ 41 ] 

a conversation that had taken place between Lord 
Ashburton and himself: " I told him," says Boswell, 
" that I had talked of him to Mr. Dunning a few 
" days before, and had said, that in his company 
" we did not so much interchange conversation, as 
" listen to him; and that Dunning observed upon 
" this, c one is always willing to listen to Dr. John- 
* son j' to which I answered, " that is a great deal 
" from you, sir." c Yes, sir, (said Johnson,) a 
c great deal indeed. Here is a man willing to listen, 
6 to whom the world is listening all the rest of the 
c year J It is a pleasing circumstance to the friends 
of Revelation to reflect, that the great mind of 
Lord Ashburton may be added to the preponder- 
ating class of superior intellect, which has acknow- 
ledged and asserted the divinity of our religion. He 
was a firm believer of Christianity, a belief, I doubt 
not, built upon cool conviction ; since he has been 
heard often to declare, that if the evidences in favour 
of it could be made an abstract subject: of judicial 
determination, they were such as would be altoge- 
ther satisfactory and convincing to any Court of law, 
in which they might be sifted, and to every enlight- 
ened Jury to whom they might be proposed. As 
his Lordship cannot, I presume, be denied to have 
possessed the deepest and most accurate knowledge 
of the nature and rules of evidence, the argument in 



[ 42 ] 

favour of the authenticity of Revelation, drawn from 
his declaration, is as compleat, as such a species of 
argument can be. The church of Ashburton con- 
tains a handsome monument to the memory of this 
accomplished character. 

About two miles from Ashburton we crossed the 
Dart, rolling its troubled waters through a romantic 
country in this point of its course. Precipices of 
shistus are seen peeping through the wood, which 
rises on all sides, contrasting their bare faces with 
the splendid verdure of diversified vegetation. It is 
a solemn scene, and would be a silent one also, were 
not its stillness interrupted by the thundering strokes 
of the heavy instruments with which the rocks are 
broken, to procure the good slate that they afford: 
the noise however, which is occasional, and re- 
echoed by the woods and precipices, produced a 
pleasing effect, rather than otherwise. The little 
church of Buckfastleigh, which crowns a rising 
ground on the western bank of the river, adds 
another agreeable accompaniment to the picture. 

These romautic beauties are associated with all the 
Devonshire rivers. We again found them adorn- 
ing the Hone, which runs through Brent, eight 
miles to the west of Ashburton. Here we passed a 
lofty head of rock, called Brent Beacon, terminating 
the extensive district of Dartmoor to the south ; a 



[ 43 J 

tract too interesting to be quitted without more par- 
ticular notice than I have hitherto bestowed upon it. 

This vast range of wild country, so abundant in 
grand, uncommon, and grotesque scenery, occupies 
a space of twenty miles in length, by fourteen in 
breadth -> affording pasture for upwards of twenty 
thousand sheep, and a great abundance of other 
cattle ; and sheltering in its wilds a considerable 
quantity of red deer. Its surface, for the most part, 
is a thin black earth, swampy and spongy, through 
which the granite rocks occasionally shew them- 
selves in a variety of fantastic forms. In many parts, 
liowever, the soil is more valuable, from its rich 
deep beds of peat, which makes good fuel, and burns 
into excellent manure. Like the Irish mosses, these 
beds will again vegetate in a few years, if they be 
judiciously cut. Independently of this product, it 
abounds also, in some parts, with rabbits, sufficiently 
numerous to supply the market of Exeter, and other 
towns, with this delicate article of food. Other 
riches, however, seem formerly to have been drawn 
from Dartmoor, as is evident from the numerous 
traces of ancient Tin-works found in every dip be- 
tween the hills, both on its southern and western sides; 
a small remnant of which are worked to this day. 

The Prince of Wales's royalty occupies the cen- 
ter of Dartmoor, surrounded ^y tracts, in the hands 



[ 44 ] 

of other possessors ; but it is every year lessened 
by the allotments granted to speculators, who are 
induced to cultivate it under beneficial leases from 
his Royal Highness. Mr. Tyrwhitt, the Prince's 
agent, has himself set the example of cultivation, by 
inclosing a large tract of the Moor, reducing it into 
husbandry, planting a number of trees, and building 
a handsome house upon it for his own residence. 
The system pursued in this conversion of the waste 
h said to have been that of compression, by frequent 
rolling, the ground having been previously inter- 
sected by drains, into which the water exudes, and 
is afterwards carried off. Large quantities of sand 
are also spread upon the surface, for the purpose 
of consolidating the mass, over which, when it has 
been thus condensed, streams of water are conduced 
to nourish and irrigate it. The effect produced 
by the latter experiment has been answerable to 
the highest expectation ; and remains a convincing 
proof, that what have been always considered as the 
most destructive waters to vegetation, (mineral ones 
excepted,) those flowing even from peat bogs, may 
be productive of the most beneficial consequences 
to land. Dartmoor was first made a forest by King 
John ; whose successor determined its bounds by 
perambulation. 



[ 45 1 

As we continued our course to Ivy-Bridge, wc 
were struck with the appearance of the materials 
used on our road for its reparation, which lay in 
great heaps by the side of the turnpike. They con- 
sisted of beautiful varieties of granite, rounded by 
attrition, and apparently taken from the bottoms of 
the rivers in the neighbourhood, which bring 
these treasures from the mountains, whence they 
roll. . A striking proof of the violence of the tor* 
rents of Dartmoor, when they are in their strength, 
that can rend such fragments from their primaeval 
beds, and polish their rough surfaces by the force 
of their surge. 

The London Inn at Ivy-Bridge is one of the 
most agreeable houses of public reception in the 
kingdom, from the circumstances of its situation; 
and can be exceeded by none in elegance and com- 
fort. Its venerable host, Mr. Rivers, has now been 
nearly forty years in his present situation; and, 
though in possession of a princely and well-merited 
fortune, from steady industry, exemplary prudence, 
and unimpeachable integrity, still ministers to the 
convenience of his customers, with an attention, 
politeness, and, I may add, humility, as engaging as 
as they are uncommon. Let not Pride sneer at this 
tribute of praise to the keeper of an inn ; moral 
worth is a fair subject of eulogy, wherever it may be 



[ 46 ] 

found : its claims, too, are heightened, if discovered 
under circumstances where it might least be expected. 

As the features of this spot were known to me 
only by description, I was impatient to contemplate 
them in their original beauty. After a hasty refresh- 
ment, therefore, we borrowed the key of the walks 
from our landlord, who now rents the land through 
which they are carried, and proceeded to the western 
side of the river Erme, whose course they follow for 
upwards of two miles. The bridge we crossed in 
our way, (at the foot of which the London Inn is 
situated,) and the circumstance of its being richly 
cloathed with ivy, have given its present name to 
the Hamlet. It forms an object: of considerable 
picturesque beauty, viewed from the eastern side of 
the river, where its lofty single arch, of wide span, 
springing from natural abutments, embrowned with 
the foliage of the classic plant, and stretching over 
a rude rocky bed, is seen to the greatest advantage. 

However warmed my fancy might have been by 
previous descriptions of the beauties of the river 
at Ivy-Bridge, the actual scene would have realized 
its most romantic dreams. I confessed that I never 
had before seen so much variety crowded into so 
short a distance. 

The first combination of objects that arrests the 
attention, occurs two or three hundred yards above 



[ 47 ] 

the bridge, where the path conduces to the side of 
the torrent, and throws a short reach of it before the 
eye, hemmed in on the opposite side by rock and 
wood. Immediately in front a sheet of water tum- 
bles over the face of a steep bank, apparently a 
natural water-fall, though formed by a stream stolen 
from the river at some distance above, to serve the 
purposes of a paper-mill, which is seen a little behind 
the cascade, so broken by wood, as to give addi- 
tional beauty to. the sketch. This is a favourite 
subject with artists, and has afforded many good 
drawings, and some tolerable engravings. 

Pursuing the walk, we were carried parallel to 
the river, through a coppice, for about half a mile ; 
indulged occasionally with peeps at the rugged 
channel and rocky banks of the stream : always 
catching at these openings a lofty wood, which 
rising in amphitheatrical majesty, and following the 
curviture of the river, bounded the view before us. 
In the course of another mile, the scenery was 
changed. Our path now entered what might be 
called a grove, consisting of fine tall trees, into 
whose recesses the eye could penetrate, unobstructed 
by humbler coppice foliage, and catch the distant 
woodman at his labours. To the right lay the 
river in all its uncouth grandeur, darkened by the 
brown shade of a thickly wooded acclivity, that rose. 



t 48 ] 

rapidly, and loftily, from its eastern bank. It was a 
solemn, silent scene, and recalled the romantic 
solitude described by Mason, and the purposes to 
which it might be applied : 

.-. « Here might Contemplation imp 

" Her eagle plumes ! the Poet here might hold 
u Sweet converse with the Muse ! The curious sage, 
" Who comments on great Nature's ample tome, 
<e Might find that volume here. For here are caves, 
" Where rise those gurgling rills, that sing the song 
fC Which contemplation loves. Here shadowy glades, 
•' Where, through the tremulous foliage darts the ray 
" That gilds the Poet's day-dream!" — 

The bed of the river is, at this point, truly chaotic. 
It appears to have been formed in a convulsion of 
nature ; or rather, to have been left in its original state 
of rudeness, when other things were reduced to order 
and beauty. Huge masses of granite lie scattered pver 
it in the wildest confusion, associated with more 
regular features of rock, the natural produce of 
the spot, which have been laid bare, by the violence 
of the torrent, when it assumes its wintry character 
of ungovernable rage, and irresistible violence. In 
truth, I know no place, where, in a little space, so 
many eligible and striking studies for the pencil, of 
rock scenery, are accumulated: I mean upon a nar- 
row scale, and for near distances. The river, it is 



[ 49 ] 

true, was peculiarly favourable for such sketches-, at 
the time we saw it, owing to the late very dry 
season, which had diminished its waters to a purling 
stream ; a circumstance, it must be confessed, that 
deprived ft of one of its grandest accompaniments, 
and might be supposed to have lessened the pleasure 
that a scene of this nature is calculated to 'afford. 
I am, however, inclined to be of a contrary opinion. 
The effect produced upon the imagination by a 
foaming torrent, roaring over its rugged bed, 
struggling through opposing rocks, whirling round 
in eddies, and darting down in cataracts, is in truth 
exceedingly impressive, and naturally awakens 
astonishment and awe : But it must be recollected, 
that the mind, under the action of these emotions, is 
in a painful state ; the one being too intense, and 
the other too gloomy, for long entertainment : 
And whilst the scene is viewed only as one vast 
whole, the ideas excited by it are rather overwhelm- 
ing than agreeable. Contemplated, on the other 
hand, in its peaceful summer dress, a picture of 
this kind calls up far different associations : won- 
der and terror are changed into admiration and 
delight : the mind, reposing in tranquillity, unruf- 
fled by tumultuous emotions, can now dwell upon 
its diversified features, and analyze its various beau- 
ties : it can separate and combine at leisure $ and 



[ 50 ] 

add to the number of its real charms the touches of 
taste, or the creations of fancy. We quitted with 
regret a spot that had so agreeably regaled our ima- 
gination, and took the road that was to lead us to 
one of a very different character, the dirty town 
of Plymouth, and the bustling streets of Ply- 
mouth-Dock. 

It must be confessed, however, that the country 
around these towns is exceedingly rich both in natural 
charms, and in grand specimens of human art ; and 
even before we caught sight of them, we found 
Some scenes of great and diversified beauty. This 
was particularly the case from a high ground about 
five miles from Ivy-Bridge, where the eye ranged 
over a broad and magnificent valley, surrounded by 
hills of various forms, and including within its bosom 
the two Plymptons, numerous villages, with their 
steepled churches, elegant private mansions, and seve- 
ral grand masses of wood. Amongst these objeSs, 
the circular remains' of the Keep of Plympton- 
Earle Castle, resting upon a huge artificial mound, 
were strikingly conspicuous. This ruin was a suffi- 
icent inducement to us to quit the turnpike, which 
passes through Plympton St. Mary, and take the 
rather circuitous road to Plymouth, through the 
more ancient town of Plympton-Earle. The 
effect, however, produced by a distant view was les- 



[ si J 

sened by near inspection ; we found but little to repay 
us for our deviation, in the remains of a Castle 
that had formerly given dignity and influence to the 
family of De Redvers, Earls of Devonshire. A curi- 
ous circumstance in the architecture of the Keeps 
had long exercised the fancy of antiquaries; till 
they were relieved from the pain, or deprived of 
the pleasure, of conjecture, by the sagacity of Mr. 
King. It is an horizontal passage or hole, that ran 
within the masonry of the prodigiously thick walls 
which formed the Donjon of the fortress. He 
suggested that the Romans, and after them, the Bri- 
tons, Saxons, and Normans, as they carried their ram- 
parts upwards, relieved the pressure on the lower 
members of the edifices, and added strength to the 
whole, by turning arches in the work, and forming 
the rest of the wall upon them ; examples of which 
judicious contrivance appear in the ramparts of Old 
Sarum, and Manchester, and in the Keep at Roches- 
ter. — But cedant arma toga ; let us turn from the 
contemplation of ancient hostile structures, to the 
more agreeable view of modern peaceful arts, 
Plympton-Earle does not derive so much glory from 
the castle of De Redvers, as from its being the birth- 
place of our English Raphael, the late Sir Joshua 
Reynolds; who was born here July i6*th, 1723. 
Of this accomplished artist, it would be little to say § 

E 2 



[ 52 ] 

that his fame will survive his colours ; in the mixing 
of which, sacrificing future glory to present effect, 
he unfortunately adopted a mode that prevented them 
from being permanent ; his reputation happily rests 
upon a less perishable foundation — his literary pro- 
ductions, which will remain as long as our language 
subsists, monuments of taste and eloquence, of his 
intimate acquaintance with the principles of art, and 
his accurate knowledge of the rules of composition. 
The occasion of his scriptural Christian name is 
rather curious. His father, Mr. Samuel Reynolds, 
master of the Grammar-School at Plympton, had 
conceived a notion, that it might, at seme future 
period of life, be an advantage to a child to bear an 
uncommon Christian name ; as it might recommend 
him to the attention and kindness of some person 
bearing the same aame, who, if he should happen 
to have no natural objecl: of his care, might be led, 
. even by so slight a circumstance, to become his bene- 
factor. Hence, the Knight derived the scriptural 
same of Joshua, which, though not very uncommon, 
occurs less frequency than many others. Of this 
baptismal distinction, however, the register of 
Plympton has deprived him, by substituting the 
name of Joseph for that of Joshua. 

As we approached Plymouth, interesting objects 
crowded upon us. Saltram, the seat of Lord 



[ £3 ] 

Borringdon, crowned the hill in front ; surrounded 
by a noble belt of wood, descending to the wide 
expanse of water called Catwater, and fringing the 
waves with its foliage. It is an elegant mansion, 
enlarged by the present owner's father, John Parker, 
esq; under the direction of Mr. Adam, the architect. 
Looking over an extensive lawn in front, and the 
sheet of water below, it compleats its view by 
resting on the beautiful grounds of Mount Edge- 
combe on the opposite shore. Sakram had the 
honour of entertaining the Royal Family, in the 
the year 1789, who made it the place of their resi- 
dence during their stay in the West of England. 

A lofty hill, variegated with wood and rock, reared 
itself in another direction ; surmounted by a military 
stru&ure, called Clarke's Battery, ere&ed about four 
years ago; whilst the actuary into which the 
river Plym disembogues itself, lay spread in wide 
extent to our left hand. By the side of this sestuary 
we continued our course for nearly two miles along 
a road lately opened, made at great expense, over a 
marsh, level with the water ; and secured from its 
incursions by a strong embankment. It runs in a 
straight line, and saves a circuitous road, and an 
ugly hill ; both which inconveniencies attended the 
old turnpike. 



[ 54 ] 

We agreed that the praise of Plymouth should 
be rather negative than positive, and modified when 
compared with Portmonth and other sea-ports, in 
some such manner as Jack Hatchway's celebrated 
eulogy on the flame of Commodore Trunnion was 
worded : " She is not a drunkard, like Nan Cas- 
M tick of Deptford ; nor a nincompoop, like Peg 
" Simper of Woolwich ; nor a brimstone, like Kate 
" Coddle of Chatham ; nor a shrew, like Nell 
" Griffin on the Point." The most remarkable 
thing it contains at present is the stock of wine that 
fills the Abbey cellars, the property of Messrs. 
Welsford, Arthur, and Co. which amounts to 800 
pipes in wood, and 300 in bottle, or 55,000 
dozen 5 a larger quantity, perhaps, than is pos- 
sessed by any other firm in Europe. 

Owing to the rapid increase of buildings in these 
parts within these few years, Plymouth, though two 
miles distance from the Dock, is connected with it 
almost all the way by contiguous houses ; Stone- 
house, the intermediate town, which in the time of 
Henry the Third was only a solitary dwelling, the 
residence of a person of that name, having now 
increased into a place of considerable extent. We 
were pleased to observe, on the outside of one of 
the houses in this town, and in a spot which 
appeared to be peculiarly dedicated to female pro- 



[ 95 ] 

fligacy, a large board, inscribed, " the Penitentiary., 
or Asylum for Penitent Prostitutes." It had been 
erected only a few months, but from the information 
which W — gave me, whose benevolence led him 
immediately to enquire into its state, and to become 
a contributor to its fund, it was gratifying to learn 
that its success had been as flattering as the recent 
date of its institution could authorize us to expect 
it might be. Surely, my friend, there are no 
objects to which philanthropy is more loudly called 
to direct its attention, than those unhappy sufferers 
for whom these establishments are opened; and no 
institutions more deserving encouragement and sup- 
port, than the asylums which are erected to receive 
them. Nor can we help lamenting, that in a 
country so justly distinguished for humanity as our 
own, and in an age whose most striking virtue is 
that species of charity which ministers to the wants 
of the unhappy, the instances of these recepta- 
cles are so i infrequent as we must confess them to 
be. Could we but look into the secret cells of 
these most pitiable victims of lawless passion, how 
many of them should we at this moment discover, 
" watering their couch with the tears" of contrition, 
and yearning to be rescued from the horrors of 
their situation; from the sad alternative of accumu- 
lating guilt upon themselves, or perishing with 



[ 56 ] 

hunger. But, ah! my friend, who is moved by 
their penitence and sorrow? or what do their sighs 
and wishes avail? To what quarter may they 
look for rescue ? or whither can they fly for pro- 
teclion ? Man glories in the havock he has made, 
and only aims to sink them lowxr in perdition; — and 
ivoman^ the jealous guardian of that honour, . which 
she is aware, alone ensures to her her place in 
society, reproaches and renounces them. — 

fC The watchful herd alarm'd, 

" With selfish care, avoid a sisters woe" 

Thus abandoned and forlorn, the unhappy pros- 
titute is compelled to continue her ruinous career, 
till disease at length drinks up her vitals, despair 
seizes on her soul, and she drops into an untimely 
grave, " with all her im per feci ions on her head ;" 
a melancholy monument of the brutality of one sex, 
and the cruelty of the other ; an eternal reproach on 
that society which has spurned her from its bosom ; 
and denied her the solace and protection to which 
Religion and Humanity have given her the most 
holy right. To the rescue and reformation of 
objeels like these, so numerous and pitiable, how 
gladly (could my feeble voice be heard) would I 
direcl the attention of the laws, the influence of 
the powerful, and the charity of the rich! How 



[ 57 ] 

earnestly would I recommend it to them to establish 
in every town within the realm sequestered sanc- 
tuaries, in whose peaceful bosoms the penitent 
daughters of Folly might escape the commission of 
further crime, work out their repentance for past 
guilt, and prepare themselves in future for acting a 
new, useful, and honourable part in society : sanc- 
tuaries, to which the sheep that was lost might be 
brought back; where the returning prodigal might 
be received ; where the spark of re-kindling grace 
might be fostered; where the Magdalen might be 
aided in her contrition ; and by whose protection, 
the last execrable triumph of the villainous seducer 
might be marred — the triumph of seeing his mise- 
rable victim perish* 

The town of Dock is an infant of yesterday, 
compared with Plymouth. A century back it was a 
desolate common, without houses or inhabitants ; a 
singular contrast to its present appearance ; that of a 

* It must be observed, to the credit of the city of Bath, 
that a charity of this nature has been established there for 
these three years past, and attended with the most beneficial 
effects. Truly gratified would the author of these pages be, 
if any of his readers, impressed by what he has said above, 
should hear the call of compassion, and be induced to aid, by 
their donations or subscriptions, so benevolent an institution 
as the Bath Penitentiary. 



I 58 ] 

handsome, regular town, with a population of at least 
25,000 souls. But though the origin of this place 
may be given to the commencement of the seven- 
teenth century, yet its progress to the extent and 
respectability which it now exhibits, was at first 
but slow; its most rapid advances having been made 
within these forty years past, during which space of 
time such numerous buildings have been erected, 
both of a public and private nature, as to give it at 
least a four-fold increase both in houses and inhabit- 
ants. This rapid improvement must of course have 
produced a prodigious increase in the value of pro- 
perty on the spot, and in its neighbourhood ; and we 
were assured that several portions of land had, in 
consequence of it, been raised, within the last 
thirty years, a thousand t per cent, in their annual 
rents.* 



* " The number of houses in Dock is about 2400. These 
ct were wholly erected by the inhabitants, to whom the lordg 
" of the manor granted leases for ninty-nine years, determi- 
" nable by the deaths of three lives, of the builders* nomina- 
" tion, and subject to a certain annual quit-rent, of probably 
u from three shillings to fourteen, according to the space of 
" ground occupied : with a heriot, double the quit-rent, on 
*f the death of each life. The original leases were renew- 
*' able on the dropping of a life, on paying a fine to the 
* f lord ©f the manor, equal to about three years' value of 



[ 59 ] 

The growth of Plymouth-Dock town was indeed 
for a long time obstructed by the difficulty of sup- 
plying it with water; that of the place being unfit 



" the premises. In the year 1701* a plan of perpetual re- 
" newal, at a certain fine, was presented to the inhabitants by 
** Sir John St. Aubin; the basis of which was, that the tenant 
tc should constantly keep his premises full lived, by nomi- 
" nating some fresh persons within a year of the dropping of 
4t any one of the then existing lives ; and paying for this pri- 
" vilcge, a small addition of yearly con ventionary rent, and a 
" fine of about two years clear value of the premises. These 
€t terms, not being so favourable as those held out by Lord 
" Mount Edgcumbe for building at Stonehouse, and R. P. 
.*« Carew, esq; atTorpoint, on the Cornish side of the Tamar, 
** met at first with many opponents : but latterly the inhabit- 
*' ants appeared sensible of the advantages attending them ; 
" and all the houses which by the dropping off of lives, on 
tc the original plan, came into the lord's hands, were leased 
" accordingly. At present, however, Sir John declines grant- 
fC ing any more leases on these terms, or even on the old 
" mode of holding for three lives : the houses which now fall 
* f into his hands, as well as the lands of the manor, are let 
" at a yearly rent, for seven years only. The present annual 
t( income is considered as amounting to about OOOO/. but 
" whenever the whole of the lands and houses of the manor, 
4S not on perpetual renewal, shall revert to the proprietor, 
*\ little doubt can be entertained, that the rental will increase 
" to upwards of 80,000/. per annum." — Polwheles History 
of Devonshire y \~o\. iii. p. 450. 



r go j 

for drinking, or culinary purposes. It is now, how 
ever, plentifully accommodated with this useful 
element, which is conveyed from a large reservoir at 
the north side of the town, into which the waters 
of the Dartmoor rivers have been led at a very great 
expense- Before this necessary improvement in the 
state of Dock town took place, it was occasionally 
exceedingly inconvenienced for want of it, parti- 
cularly in the year 1762, when the celebrated Dr. 
Johnson happened to be at Plymouth, in an excur- 
sion which he took into the West of England during 
that year. The indefatigable Boswell, who tells 
every thing, good, bad, and indifferent, of his illus- 
trious friend, has given us the following characteris- 
tical anecdote of Johnson on the occasion : " The 
" Doctor having observed," says he, " that in con- 
" sequence of the dock-yard, a new town had arisen 
w about two miles off, as a rival to the old; and 
" knowing from his sagacity, and just observation 
" of human nature, that it is certain if a man hate 
" at all, he will hate his next neighbour : he con- 
cc eluded that this new and rising town could not 
<f but excite the envy and jealousy of the old, in 
" which conjecture he was soon confirmed. He 
? ; therefore set himself resolutely on the side of 
" the old town, the established town in which his 
" lot was cast, considering it a kind of duty to stand 



[ 61 ] 

^ 6 by it. He accordingly entered warmly into its 
«f interests ; and upon every occasion talked of the 
" Dockers , as the inhabitants of the New Town were 
" called, as upstarts and aliens. Plymouth is very 
" plentifully supplied with water, by a river brought 
" into it at a great distance, which is so abundant 
<c that it runs to waste in the town. The Dock, or 
" New Town being totally destitute of water, peti- 
" tioned Plymouth, that a small portion of the con- 
" duit might be permitted to go to them, and this 
" was now under consideration. Johnson, affect- 
" ing to entertain the passions of the place, was 
" violent in opposition ; and half laughing at him- 
U self for his pretended zeal, where he had no 
" concern, exclaimed, c No! no! I am against the 
" c Dockers ; lama Plymouth man. Rogues ! let 
<6 c them die of thirst: they shall not have a drop.' " 
It was the boast of an ancient monarch that he 
found his capital built of mud, and left it of marble. 
Such a declaration would be scarcely hyperbolical if 
applied to Plymouth Dock town j since most of the 
public edifices are constructed, and the very streets 
paved, with this elegant species of calcareous stone, 
which is found in abundance on the spot. In con- 
sequence of this, the effect produced on any of the 
pavements which lie on a descent, is said to be very 
beautiful after a smart shower of rain, when the 



[ 62 ] 

surface being washed clean, the veins of the marble 
appear in their original bright colours and diversified 
forms. The number of forts, batteries, lines, &c. 
built for the defence of the place, is so great as to 
require a. considerable time to inspect, and would 
be tedious to describe ; I cannot omit to mention, 
however, the Telegraph, which stands on the parade 
at the north-east extremity of the town. For this 
useful instrument of rapid communication with dis- 
tant places, we are indebted, you know, to the 
French, who first invented it : and as we wisely fol- 
lowed the maxim, Fas est ab hoste doceri, they are 
now pretty general on our own coasts. The swift- 
ness with which intelligence is conveyed by this con- 
trivance over a great space, may be imagined from 
the short time requisite for communicating news to 
London from this place, and receiving an answer in 
return. By means of thirty-one telegraphs any par- 
ticulars from Plymouth-Dock are known at the 
Admiralty, a distance of 217 miles, in twenty-two 
minutes; and orders re-delivered at the Dock in the 
same space of time. Only seven minutes are re- 
quired to convey any intelligence to Portsmouth. 

But the object best deserving attention at this 
place is the Dock-Yard ; which is superior to any in 
the world perhaps, for compactness, elegance, con- 
venience, the magnitude of its buildings, and the 



[ 63 ] 

beamy of its scenery. An admission is easily pro- 
cured through the recommendation of any respectable 
person of the town to the Commissioner; though 
a very proper regulation prohibits the entrance of 
a person not employed in the dock-yard, into any 
of the buildings, without a specific order for that 
purpose from that officer. The whole of this space 
is private property, leased to Government for twenty- 
one years, and perpetually renewable every seven 
years \ with a reservation to the Lord of the Manor 
of free ingress and egress at all times, as well as of 
all forfeitures in case of premature deaths. William 
the Third was the first of our kings who deemed 
the scite of this spot eligible for the purposes of a 
dock-yard, though but a small part of the present 
buildings and conveniences were in his reign con- 
structed. From that time additions have been gra- 
dually made, as circumstances seemed to render 
them necessary ; but the greatest part of the many 
useful and capacious structures which now adorn the 
dock-yard have had their origin in the present reign. 
This noble depot of naval and military stores 
occupies a space of about seventy acres, a great part 
of which has been excavated out of the rock, to ren- 
der its surface level. But however expensive such 
an operation might be thought to have been, the 
charges were greatly lessened by the stone produced 



[ 64 ] 

by it having been applied to erect the necessary 
buildings. They are partly of shistus, and partly 
of marble, for both these materials were the natural 
productions of the spot ; this neatness in their 
appearance, added to their judicious arrangement, 
the beautiful combination of wood and water, hill 
and rock, which surround the dock-yard, and the 
animation produced by 3500 workmen, render it 
if not a picturesque scene, at least as striking and 
agreeable a one as I ever saw. 

The chief advantages of Plymouth Dock over that 
of Portsmouth consists in the superior dimensions 
of one of the docks, hewn out of the solid rock, and 
the largest in the world ; and in its having two 
Rope-houses of 1 200 feet long each, whereas Ports- 
mouth has but one, and that of inferior length. 
The busy operation of this manufactory struck us 
with amazement, nor was our wonder lessened when 
we learnt that the people employed in it worked at 
present three days in one, a term of twelve hours 
of uninterrupted labour, and that such of them as 
attended the twisting of the cables, paced so fre- 
quently up and down the rope-house, as to make 
their diurnal journey twenty-five miles. 

We peeped into the anchor forge, for all entrance, 
as I before mentioned, is denied, and beheld a scene 
only to be described in Virgil's words : 



C 65 ] 

" Ac Veluti lentls Cyclopes fulmina massis 

'* Gum properant : alii taurinis follibus auras 

ic Accipiunt redduntque ; alii stridentia tingunt 

" JEra. lacu; gemit impositis incudibus JEtna-, 

" Uli inter se magna vi brachia tollunt 

" In numerum ; versantque tenaci forcipcferrum.'* 

But though we were forbidden a close inspection 
of all the operations of these sons of fire, we had 
an opportunity of seeing some of the effects of their 
labour, in a long range of anchors, which had been 
compleated at the forge, and were now ready for 
service; one of which, the largest ever made, weighed 
five tons within an hundred and a half. It was no 
little cause of elation to Britons to see at the same 
time several French anchors, that had been taken in 
prizes, and which (as we were told) were every way 
below our own 5 from the inferiority of the iron, and 
the unskilful manufacture of the throat of the anchor, 
or the curved part between the fluke and the body 
of it. Nor was this agreeable emotion lessened 
when we went on board the Caledonia, almost ready 
for launching,* a noble three-decker, built upon 
dimensions larger than those of any other ship in 
the navy. She is pierced for 132 guns; is from 
stem to stern 240 feet, measures 54 in breadth, and 

* She has been since launched. 
F 



r ee ] 

is upwards of six feet high between all her decks 
The figure of an Highlander graces her head ; a 
proper compliment to a nation, 

fC Inflexible in faith, invincible in arras5" 

which forms, in my opinion, the most brilliant gem 
of our imperial diadem ; a nation which blends in 
its character what we have yet to learn, the sincere 
religious principle, and an exemplary morality, with 
the most ardent courage, and the most determined 
resolution. 

It had been particularly enjoined us to visit the 
market of Plymouth-Dock ; an object which we 
found to be well worth our attention. Nothing can 
be more judicious than the plan on which it is con- 
structed - y consisting of two stories, both of which are 
defended from the weather by being covered over 
head. The quantities of provision of all descrip- 
tions exposed here for sale every Tuesday, Thurs- 
day, and Saturday, are really astonishing; and it is 
a pleasant circumstance that this profusion is accom- 
panied by very moderate prices, which is not gene- 
rally the case with the best furnished markets in the 
kingdom. When we heard of sixpence-halfpenny 
per pound for meat, two shillings for a couple of 
ducks, and other poultry in proportion, it is not 
wonderful that with our heads full of Bath prices, 



C 67 ] 

we should for a moment imagine ourselves trans- 
ported into Canaan, " the glory of all lands ;" where 
abundance was the character of the country, and 
plenty was proverbial. The excellence of xhtjish 
of Plymouth cannot be doubted, when it is recol- 
lected that the product of its market had sufficient 
attractions to overcome the vis inertia of Quin, and 
draw him from the metropolis, to the western 
extremity of Devonshire, that he might eat John 
Dories and Red Mullet in perfection. Indeed, 
there cannot be imagined a finer picture for the 
watery eye of a piscine epicure, than the department 
of the fishmongers in Plymouth-Dock marker, 
whilst this article of food is in season. 

One word more on the subject of this place, and 
I release you. Acquainted as W — and myself 
were with the customary licentious habits of the 
lower orders and working class of people in most of 
our large sea-ports, it afforded us no small gratifica- 
tion to hear, and to observe, that the morals of the 
population of the Dock-yard were of an higher 
order than is usually the case in places of this de- 
scription ; an. effect, attributed by our conductor, 
and I believe with truth, to the strenuous profes- 
sional exertions of a particular class of the clergy in 
the neighbourhood. Without pretending to deter- 
mine what may be the best mode of instructing the 
F 2 



t 68 ] 

multitude in their religious and moral duties, I think 
we may venture to assert, that where any one has 
been crowned by such compleat success as in the 
instance before us, we ought at least to consider the 
system with respect, and regard its instruments as 
sincere. Thus much Christian charity should com- 
pel us to allow, however our own speculative 
opinions may differ from those of the persons so 
laudably and usefully employed. 

I am, dear Sir, 

Your's sincerely, 

R. W. 




LETTER III. 



TO THE SAME. 



MY DEAR SIR, 



Truro, August *]. 



YOU perceive we have reached the capital of 
Cornwall ; but, however your curiosity may 
be excited by the mention of the Cornubian metro- 
polis, or however impatient you may feel for a 
description of a place which concentrates in itself 
all the elegance of this distant county, you must be 



C to ] 



content to wait till a subsequent letter for complete 
satisfaction on these points, and attend me in a long 
and weary journey through rough roads, and over 
barren hills, before you repose yourself amongst 
the comforts of this respectable town. 

In making the customary excursion from Ply- 
mouth-Dock to Mount Edgcombe, it is usual to 
cross the water from Mutton Cove to Cremill, a 
passage rather more than a quarter of a mile -, we 
however preferred a more circuitous course, that 
we might include Trematon Castle in our route, 
and were ferried over the Tamar from Morrice 
Town to Tor-Point, a distance of nearly half a 
mile. As the tolls of passengers are settled by A& 
of Parliament, there is no opportunity, if there 
were inclination, for imposition; though we confessed 
that the terms of one-penny for a foot passenger, 
and two-pence for our horse, seemed to be inade- 
quate to the time and labour required in a convey- 
ance of such a nature, and for such a distance. The 
proportion, however, between the pay and the ser- 
vice may perhaps be pretty equal, when we con- 
sider the multitude of passengers perpetually crossing 
here, who keep the boat fully employed for up- 
wards of twelve hours out of the twenty-four. On 
our arrival at Little Anthony, we found it neces- 
sary to cross another short passage, in order to 



C 71 ] 

effect our visit to Trematon Castle, and were ferried 
over Lynher Creek, which washes the foot of this 
noble ruin. We found these remains of baronial 
splendour as august upon a near approach as they 
were striking at a distance. They consist of a cir- 
cular ivied embattled wall, including a base court of 
an acre of ground, and surrounded by a deep ditch. 
The entrance into this space is under a massive 
square tower, formerly secured by three portcullises. 
But the most majestic feature of the ruins is the 
dilapidated keep which rises from a vast artificial 
mound at the north-west corner of the area, an 
edifice that must anciently have awed that great 
extent of country which it now overlooks. Built 
originally to be impregnable, its wall was ten feet 
thick, and allowed entrance only by a strong arched 
door-way which fronts the west. The careful 
jealousy of its construction, appears from its having 
had no openings, even for windows ; for the light of 
heaven was admitted only at the top : at least no 
windows appear in an elevation of thirty feet. Its 
figure is oval, extending in length upwards of 
seventy feet, and in breadth about fifty. The exacl: 
sera of its ereclion is unknown ; but it appears to 
have been one of the residences of the ancient 
Cornish kings, and makes at present a part of the 
Dutchy of Cornwall. 



C 72 ] 

The road from hence to Mount Edgecombe is 
enlivened by the perpetual recurrence of beautiful 
views and agreeable objects ; for though we were 
now entered upon Cornwall, the rich scenery of 
Devonshire had not yet deserted us, and numerous 
villages on every side evinced that we were still in 
the region of trade, commerce, and population. 
But the recollection of all these inferior charms was 
lost when we approached the mansion of Lord 
Mount Edgecombe. This place has been celebrated 
indeed for its magnificence and beauty, ever since 
the period of its becoming the residence of a private 
family, which was in the middle of the sixteenth 
century, when Sir Richard Edgecombe, knight, 
chose it for the scite of his country mansion. Its 
natural charms, and the growth of its artificial plan- 
tations, excited the admiration of the Duke de Me- 
dina Sidonia, who proudly passed it in his Invincible 
Armada in the year 1588, and who would probably 
have executed his determination of making it his 
English residence, had not a few trifling accidents 
destroyed both his fleet and his anticipations together. 
One cannot indeed wonder at the Spaniard's par- 
tiality to the place, as there are few spots so calcu- 
lated to strike the imagination, from the magnifi- 
cence of its situation, and the beauty of its grounds. 
Of the house as it stood shortly after the period 



C 73 3 

just mentioned, we have the following account left 
to us by Carew, which affords a tolerably accurate 
idea of its present state, as the wing that has been 
added in modern times is so skreened as not to 
interfere with the coup d'ceil of the original building. 
<c The house is builded square, with a round turret 
" at each end, garretted at the top, and the hall 
" rising in the midst above the rest, which yields a 
" stately sound as you enter the same. In summer 
" the opened casements admit a refreshing coldness. 
" In winter the two closed doors exclude all offensive 
" coldness. The parlour and dining-room give you 
" a large and diversified prospect of the land and sea* 
" It is supplied by a never-failing spring of water. 
" Both sides of the narrow entrance are fenced with 
* c block houses ; and that next to Mount Edgecombe 
" was wont to be planted with ordnance, which, at 
* c coming and parting, with their bass voices greeted 
" such guests as visited the house." 

The most advantageous tour of the extensive 
grounds of this superb place, in which its interest- 
ing parts are taken in best succession, is pointed out 
in a little Guide, published at Plymouth-Dock, 
written with neatness and elegance. It divides the 
excursion very properly into two routes, embracing 
by this arrangement the whole routine of its multi- 
farious scenes and diversified objects. Assisted by 



[ 74 ] 

this little manual, the traveller, after passing the 
Park-gate, takes the upper road, leading him through 
a piece of fine broken woodland scenery to the 
White Seat, as it is called, an eminence which com- 
mands a view combining all the objects that can be 
introduced into the most varied scene. A little fur- 
ther on a picture of a different character is pre- 
sented, from Redding Point, in which the boundless 
ocean forms the prominent feature, with Cawsand 
Bay on the right, usually spotted with ships of war 
stationed in this ample sheet of water. The route 
will then lead him along the flat summit of the hill 
to the boundary on the western side, disclosing in 
its course occasional peeps at rivers, creeks, villages, 
and towns, till gradually declining into a beautiful 
valley, it agreeably contrasts the varied views com- 
manded from the heights by the fewer, but more 
distinctly marked objects of a closer scene. The 
Great Terrace now receives the traveller, wrapping 
him in gloom, with the fine accompaniment of the 
ocean roaring at a great depth beneath him on his 
right hand ; but his associations are quickly changed 
by a beautiful little valley, upon which he suddenly 
enters, called Picklecombe. Nothing can be con- 
ceived more singular and romantic than this natural 
hollow, which, from the uniformity of its appear- 
ance, seems as if it were intended to pass upon the 



[ 75 j 

eye for an artificial excavation. A modern ruin, well 
executed, representing a dilapidated chapel, stands 
at the upper end, which takes in the whole of the 
valley, and carries the gaze through its opposite 
extremity to the sea, bounded only by the horizon. 
A shrubbery of unequalled beauty next occurs, 
formed entirely of every species of evergreen that 
will endure the vicissitudes of an English winter, 

. .« Not that fair field 

ec Of Enna, where Proserpin gath'ring flowers, 

" Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis 

" Was gather'd, which cost Ceres all that pain 

<c To seek her thro' the world ; nor that sweet grove 

*' Of Daphne by Orontes, and the inspir'd 

" Castalian spring, might strive with this." 

To its other charms it adds the prominent one of 
perpetual verdure, for as no deciduous plant has 
been admitted into it, and as it is protected from 
every blast that might injure or destroy its foliage, 
it literally smiles with an eternal spring. The close- 
ness of this grove scenery gives additional efTecl: to 
the view that bursts upon the eye at the stone seat, 
called the Arch) where it is thrown down a precipice 
washed by Plymouth Sound, that stretches into the 
ocean to the right. The zig-zag walks now con- 
duct the traveller, by a new and interesting course, 
to Picklecombe and the Great Terrace \ and being for 



[ 76, j 

a time plunged in the darkness of a solemn sylvan 
scene, he is suddenly brought to the dismantled 
Gothic window, called the Ruin, where another ex- 
tensive piclure is spread before him, heightened by 
a grand foreground of venerable wood. A road 
from hence leads direclly to the house. 

Much, however, still remains to be seen of the 
beauties of Mount Edgecombe, comprised in the 
fleasure-grounds that lie more contiguous to the 
mansion. To these the traveller is led by the 
Home Terrace, through the romantic depression, 
called the Amphitheatre, which introduces him to 
the English and French flower-gardens ; so deno- 
minated from the different styles of horticulture 
which they exhibit. The quiet and sequestered 
character of the former is well described in a quo- 
tation from Cowper's Task, inscribed on a bench at 
the entrance of it ; 



" Prospects, however lovety, may be seen 

ce Till half their beauties fade j the wearied eye, 

** Too well acquainted with their charms, slides off 

u Fastidious, seeking less familiar scenes. 

* e Then snug enclosures in some shelter'd spot, 

* Where frequent hedges intercept the eye, 

cc Delight us, happy to renounce awhile, 

" Not senseless of its charms, what still we love, 

«' That such short absence may endear it more." 



[ 77 ] 

This beautiful retreat is adorned with a pavilion 
in the Doric style, containing two rooms and a bath^ 
its marble basin supplied with hot and cold water, 
from two bronze dolphins, which pour the element 
from their mouths. 

The French flower-garden is laid out more in the 
ornamental style of that fanciful nation, 

<f Where vanity assumes her pert grimace, 
<e And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace: 
** Where beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, 
€t To boast one splendid banquet once a year." 

The copy, however, excels the original. All here 
is elegance and taste. An evergreen edge includes 
a small space laid out in a parterre; enlivened in its 
center by a fountain, and surrounded by trellis 
work, thrown into arches, and berceaux, festooned 
with every species of parasitical plant. The French 
character of the spot is further supported by an 
elegant octagon room, opening into conservatories 
on each side. Here too occurs a little trick in the 
Gallic taste. On the removal of a picture at the 
back of the apartment, a small antique statue of 
Meleager, exquisitely beautiful, is discovered, backed 
by a mirror which reflects all the objects within the 
garden. This little fairy scene was a favourite 
retreat of the late Countess of Mount Edgecombe, 



[ 78 ] 

who died in 1806. The recolle&ion of her predi- 
lection, and of the improvements which her taste 
suggested and executed on the spot, is perpetuated 
by a piece of sculpture, consisting of an Urn sup- 
porting a Tablet. The latter is inscribed with the 
name Sophia. The pedestal of the urn has the fol- 
owing memorial : 

To the Memory of 

Her 

whose taste embellished, 

whose presence added charms to 

these Retreats, 

(Herself the brightest Ornament,) 

This Urn is erected 

In the Spot she loved. 

The simplicity of the Doric alcove, called Thom- 
son's seat, to which the steps are next directed, and 
the chequered and extensive view which it affords, 
form a singular change to the elaborate but minute 
beauties of the spot just described. A very appro- 
priate inscription has been selected from the works 
of the Bard, to whom the fabric is dedicated, and 
inscribed upon its front: 

- " On either hand 

(t Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts 

" Shot up their spires ; the bellying sheet between 

*' Possess'd the breezy void 3 the sooty hulk 



[ '79 ] 

** Steer' d sluggish on ; the splendid barge along 

f£ Row'd, regular, to harmony} around, 

" The boat, light skimming, stretched its oary wings. 

* While deep the various voice of fervent toil 

" From bank to bank increas'd; whence ribb'd with oak, 

<c To bear the British thunder, black and bold, 

" The roaring vessel rush'd into the main." 

Another and a final variety meets the attention 
on retiring from Thomson's seat. All grand exter- 
nal scenery is again excluded ; and a second b'eauti- 
ful specimen of exotic horticulture, called the Italian 
garden, or Orangerie, presents itself. It is encircled 
by a fine bank of evergreens; and divi4ed into sec- 
tions by gravel walks, which radiate from a basin 
of water in the center ; out of which rises a beauti- 
ful marble fountain, formed by four of the female 
figures, called Cariatides, standing on a square 
pedestal, supporting a deep patera, from whence 
issues a very pleasing jet d'eau. The Italian garden 
is further characterized by long avenues of noble 
orange trees loaded with fruit, which in winter are 
secured in a green-house, of the Doric style, one 
hundred feet in length ; and by a bust of Ariosto, 
whose pedestal bears a quotation from his works. 
With the following English translation : 

" Near to the shore, from whence with soft ascent 
" Rises the wooded hill, there is a place 



[ 80 I 

*■ Where many an orange, cedar, myrtle, bay, 

" And each sweet-scented shrub, perfume the ah% 

" The rose, the lily, crocus, serpolet, 

■* Such sweetness shed from the odoriferous ground, 

" That every gale, soft breathing from the land, 

" Wafts forth the balmy fragrance to the sea." 

The circuit of the pleasure-grounds is closed with 
this beautiful little specimen of ornamental gardening. 

From the faint idea which the above description 
affords of Mount Edgecombe, you will be prepared, 
I think, to acknowledge, that it is one of the first 
places of the kind in the possession of a British 
subject. It combines, indeed, all that can be ima- 
gined of the grand or picturesque. Nature seems 
to have lavished every effort in its favour ; nor has 
art marred by any little tricks the effect of her mu- 
nificence. Johnson, I recollect, preferred Slaines 
castle, the seat of Lord Errol, on the eastern coast 
of Scotland, to the magnificent residence of Lord 
Mount Edgecombe ; because " at the latter," said 
he, " the sea is bounded by land on the other side, 
" and though there is the grandeur of a fleet, there 
iC is also the impression of there being a dock-yard, 
" the circumstances of which are not agreeable."* 



* Boswell's Account of a Tour to the Hebrides, p. 90. 



[ 81 ] 

But if variety be admitted as a sine qua non in a 
grand and beautiful view, we cannot sacrifice the 
superlative claims of Mount Edgecombe even to the 
authority of Johnson. No feature is wanting in the 
views from this place, and they are all upon a great 
scale 5 to which must be added the noble recesses of 
wood, both in the foregrounds, and some of the 
distances, which give a richness to every picture 
seen from it, of which no view from Slaines castle 
can afford an idea. Much of the timber, indeed, of 
Mount Edgecombe Park is of the most venerable 
character ; and we were told, that a tree, blown 
down in a storm a few months before, had been 
sold, independently of the loppings, for 76/. 

Our road led us to West-Anthony, a village 
which I could not approach without many painful 
and melancholy recollections. The beautiful view 
from its church-yard is, indeed, calculated to awaken 
nothing but agreeable associations ; but the remem- 
brance of a valued friend recently lost, for some 
years the incumbent of the church on whose sacred 
precincts I now stood, damped every joy that the 
gay picture around was so well calculated to inspire. 
Of him it might be truly said, in the words of 
Horace, Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit; and if I 
might be permitted to consider myself amongst that 
number, I would add, nulli fiebilior quam mihi. In 



[ 83 ] 

truth, it was impossible to be long and intimately 
acquainted with a man whose superior endowments 
and rare acquirements were the least estimable fea- 
tures of his character, and not be greatly affected 
by his loss. As a Divine, whilst the sincerity of his 
piety, the virtues of his heart, and the earnestness 
of his manner, ensured him the veneration of his 
flock; the liberality of his sentiments conciliated the 
esteem of Christians of every denomination. As a 
man, the beneficence of his disposition is best testi- 
fied by the gratitude of the innumerable objects for 
whose benefit it was perpetually exercised. As a 
friend, a husband, and ^father, the warmth of his 
attachments, the cheerfulness of his manners, and 
the sterling worth of his domestic virtues, secured 
him that degree of tender affection, from all his con- 
nections, which can only be estimated by the deep 
grief that his unexpected loss occasioned to those 
who had the happiness of contemplating these ex- 
cellencies of his private character.* 

" His saltern aceumulem donis, etfungar inani 
<c Munerc" 

* The Rev. Joshua Jeans, D.D. minister of the Episcopal 
Church of Amsterdam, rector of Sheviock, in the county of 
Cornwall, and chaplain to the Duke of York. He died in 
Amsterdam, after a short illness, the 5th October 180/. An. 
iEtat. 50. 



[ 83 ] 

We had scarcely entered Cornwall, before our 
attention was agreeably interested by a practice con- 
nected with the agriculture of the people, which to us 
was entirely novel. The farmers judiciously employ 
the fine oxen of the county in ploughing, and other 
processes of husbandry, to which the strength of this 
useful animal can be applied ; and whilst the hinds are 
thus driving these patient slaves along the furrows, 
they continually cheer them with conversation deno- 
ting approbation and pleasure. This encouragement is 
conveyed to them in a sort of chaunt, of very agree- 
able modulation, which, floating through the air 
from different distances, produces a striking effect 
both on the ear and the imagination. The notes 
are few and simple ; and when delivered by a clear 
melodious voice, have something expressive of that 
tenderness and affection, which man naturally enter- 
tains for those companions of his labours, in a 
pastoral state of society ; when, feeling more forci- 
bly his dependance upon domesticated animals for 
support, he gladly reciprocates with them kindness 
and protection for comfort and subsistence. This 
wild melody was to me, I confess, peculiarly affect- 
ing. It seemed to draw more closely the link of 
friendship between man and the humbler tribes of 
his fellow mortals. It solaced my heart with the ap- 
pearance of humanity, in a world of violence, and in 

G 2 



L 8* ] 

limes of universal hostile rage: and it gladdened my 
fancy with an anticipation of those days of heavenly 
harmony, promised in the predictions of eternal 
truth ; when man, freed at length from prejudice 
and passion, shall seek his happiness in cultivating 
the mild, the benevolent, and the merciful sensi- 
bilities of his nature ; and when the animal world, 
catching the virtues of its Lord and Master, shall 
soften into gentleness and love ; when " the wolf 
" shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall 
<c lie down with the kid ; and the calf, and the 
" young lion, and the fatling together ; and a little 
" child shall lead them." 

The agreeable associations excited by this inte- 
resting accompaniment of the labours of Cornish 
husbandry made some amends for the wild and un- 
ornamented appearance of the country that now pre- 
sented itself to us. We had at length a specimen of 
the denuded scenery which we had been taught to 
expecl: through a journey of many days. We had 
bade adieu to all the features of the picturesque, and 
quitted the entertainments of taste for the gratifica- 
tion of dry curiosity. Nature, you know, is a wise 
and thrifty housewife ; who, with a judicious impar- 
tiality, equalizes the advantages of every place ; and 
with a strict: justice denies her favours of one kind, 
when she has lavished her bounty in another way. 



[ 85 ] 

Such has been her system with respeS to Cornwall, 
All her valuable gifts now lie concealed from the 
view. The nakedness of the surface, however, is 
amply recompensed by the subterranean riches of 
the county \ for like a rough diamond, when her 
exterior is removed, a precious produ&ion is found 
beneath the crust. You must not therefore expect 
to be entertained with the agreeable succession of 
waving woods, and ornamented vallies, purling 
streams, or winding glens ; all above ground is deso- 
late and dreary; and the only varieties I can promise 
you to these naked tra&s of country, will be dark 
mines, horrid rocks, or dangerous precipices. Of 
this last feature of Cornwall, we had a good speci- 
men in our road to East-Looe; as it is in many 
places alarming, and in some not without jeopardy. 

Quitting the turnpike (as it is called) to Liskeard, 
which runs to the right, we directed our course 
towards the coast, through a lane so exceedingly nar- 
row, that in several places it would be impossible for 
a horse and carriage going different ways to pass each 
other. W— suggested that it would be a good plan 
to adopt the same custom here that is practised in 
passing through the excavated mountain of Pausilippo 
in the neighbourhood of Naples, where every 
carriage is provided or accompanied with a courier, 
who blows his horn perpetually during the subter- 



t 86 ] 

raneous ride, to notify the pre-occupation of the road, 
and prevent the approach of another carriage in a 
strait where there is room neither for passing nor 
turning about. I have no idea indeed what adjust- 
ment could be adopted in some parts of the road to 
Looe, should such a rencontre unfortunately take 
place. This want of breadth in a public way, how- 
ever, may be considered perhaps only in the light 
of an inconvenience ; there is another circumstance 
in the character of the Looe road, which may well 
excite the terror of the traveller. About seven 
miles from Tor, it pointed direclly to the cliff, and 
led us to an abrupt descent of some hundred feet in 
depth, inviting us down its precipitous face by a zig- 
zag track which seemed calculated only for the agile 
goats of the country, or the steady feet of an expe- 
rienced mountaineer. We dismounted from our 
horses, and led them, not without sensations of 
dread, down a declivity, in some parts of which a 
a false step must have inevitably been fatal, accom- 
panied by a hind of the country, who with fearless 
jocularity laughed at our alarm, and told us, he 
himself had trotted the whole way when it was as 
dark as pitch. He added, that he had more than 
once seen gigs descend this fearful road. We would 
not affect to doubt his information, but only begged 



[ 87 ] 

leave to observe that their drivers must have pos- 
sessed a much larger portion of nerve than prudence. 

We continued ascending and descending with this 
capricious track for about six miles, sometimes at 
the edge of precipices, and at others pent up between 
low hedges, till within half a mile of Looe, when by 
a sudden bend it introduced us to a point from 
whence a scene was suddenly exhibited equally sin- 
gular and beautiful. Immediately under us, but at 
the same time at such a depth that it did not appear 
how we could reach it, lay the town of East-Looe, 
its long bridge, river, and West-Looe on the oppo- 
site bank. To the right, a fine tract of hilly country 
stretched away, well wooded and watered ; and to 
the left, the solitary spotcalled Looe Island was 
discovered, with a long range of grand coast, washed 
by the waves of the British channel. The picture, 
it must be confessed^ is no common one, but it was 
seen from such a point of sight, as chastened the 
pleasure it conveyed with some little mixture of 
awe ; and we congratulated ourselves when we had 
once more safely reached a comfortable inn. 

West-Looe is a small miserable town ; and, de- 
spoiled of its trade by war, exhibits little eke at 
present than poverty and discontent. In happier 
times an active pilchard fishery was carried on here; 
but this is now at a stand, and we were told, almost 



[ 8S J 

with tears, that a three years stock was on hand, 
without the prosped*t of a single barrel being to be 
disposed of. It however boasts the honour of 
sending two members to the British Senate, and 
exists at present upon the languid anticipation of the 
transient riot that a dissolution of Parliament never 
fails to diffuse through it. As it was the first speci- 
men we had seen of the pure representation of Corn- 
wall, we regarded it with mingled feelings of indig- 
nation, piry, and contempt. 

It had been our wish, when we were at Plymouth, 
to have visited the Edystone Light-house, about four 
leagues from that port, in a boat, which, during the 
summer season, has intercourse with it twice a week. 
But it had unfortunately sailed for its destination 
about half an hour before we reached the quay 
from which it goes. As we plainly saw this cele- 
brated structure from the platform at Looe, and 
understood that we were now nearer to it than when 
at Plymouth, our wish to visit it revived, and we 
agreed with a sailor to be conveyed there on the 
ensuing day for the sum of one guinea. Fortune 
however was again unpropitious ; the wind got to 
the south-west in the night, and we were informed 
any attempt to reach it would be unsuccessful ; as it 
requires both that the wind should be in, or north- 
erly, and blow lightly, to render a landing prac* 



[ 89 ] 

ticable. We would not allow ourselves long to 
regret a disappointment tor which there was no 
remedy; though it would have afforded us much 
gratification to have surveyed such a monument 
of human skill and hardihood ; a place of which 
the history is so remarkable, and the structure so 
astonishing.* 

The horrors of Edystone had long been a subject 
of alarm to all the navigators of this part of the 
British channel : and innumerable accidents pointed 
out the necessity of taking some measures to remedy 
an evil, which, as commerce increased, became every 
day of greater mngnitude. Accordingly, in the year 
1696, Mr. Henry Winstanly, of Littlebury in Essex, 
a celebrated shipwright and mechanic, was employed 
to construct a light-house on this formidable rock. 
TJie work was compleated in 1700, and s^ood the 
furious assaults of the winds and waves, till the year 
1703, when some material repairs being required, 
the architect visited the Edystone that he might 
superintend them himself. With a confidence in 
the stability of his work, and a resolution of mind 



* We are indebted to Mr. Smeaton both for the erection 
of this edifice, and for an account of it as interesting as it is 
simple and elegant. Folio, London, 1791. 



[ 90 J 

that deserved a better fate, he declared to his friends 
previously to his departure for Plymouth, in the 
month of November of the above-mentioned year, 
it was his wish that the most violent storm 
which ever blew should occur whilst he was at the 
light-house, that he might see what effect it pro- 
duced on the structure. His wish was unhappily 
granted to him. A violent gale of wind came on, 
and in the morning, when the inhabitants of Ply- 
mouth looked out for the light-house, not a trace 
was to be seen \ the whole of it having been over- 
whelmed, and swept avray during the night. Three 
years after this melancholy 'catastrophe, a second 
light-house was begun under the direction of Mr. 
Rudyard, a silk-mercer on Ludgate-hill, assisted by 
Messrs. Smith and Northcott, shipwrights, of Wool- 
wich. In July 1708, it was furnished with a light; 
and the whole of it compleated in the succeeding 
year. For forty- six years Rudyard's edifice answered 
all the purposes of its erection ; but by some care- 
lessness in the persons employed, it took fire, in 
December 1755, and was entirely consumed. To 
this conflagration we owe one of the most extraor- 
dinary anecdotes recorded in the physical history of 
man. Three persons had been appointed to take 
care of the building, and were on the spot when the 
accident happened. Whilst one of these was looking 



- 



[ 91 J 

up to the flames which raged above, and gaping with 
horror at the sight, a quantity of melted lead, ex-, 
ceeding seven ounces in weight, poured down his 
throat ! Wonderful to relate, the man perceived 
but a trifling inconvenience at the time, and actually 
survived the infernal dose eleven days. His body was 
then opened by Mr. Spry, of Plymouth, who found 
the mass in the stomach of the patient. He authen- 
ticated, the circumstance in a well-written account, 
communicated to the Royal Society.* Notwith- 
standing the disastrous fate of the two first light- 
houses, in the succeeding year, 1756, the proprietors 
of the Edystone employed the ingenious Mr. Smea- 
ton in the construction of a third. He commenced 
his work on the foundation the 5th of August. On 
the 1 2th of June in the ensuing year, the first stone 
of the structure was laid ; and on the 9th of Octo- 
ber 1759, it " stood fixed its stately height;" the 
proudest monument which the world exhibits of 
man's triumph over the fury of the blast and the 
violence of the ocean. The accomplishment of this 
great undertaking, and the genius that suggested it, 
will appear the more extraordinary, when it is recol- 
lected that, owing to frequent interruptions from the 
tide and the winds, the workmen were not employed 

* Philosophical Transactions, vol.49, p. 4f/. 



[ 9* ] 

more than a hundred and eleven days and ten hours, 
from striking the first stroke to finishing the build- 
ing. Nothing less than a convulsion that shall dis- 
place the Edystone itself, will be able to destroy 
the light-house upon it; since it is dove-tailed into 
the rock, and thus identified with the mass that sup- 
ports it. 

It would be cruel, in the present depressed state 
of East-Looe, to withhold any claim that it asserts to 
celebrity. Let me not forget therefore to mention 
that it boasts one of the finest breed of Terriers in 
the kingdom, which afford much amusement to the 
inhabitants in hunting the badgers that abound in 
the creeks. The eye of our host sparkled when he 
recounted to us the joys of this species of chase, the 
hair-breadth 'scapes he had experienced in the pur- 
suit, the wiliness of the game, and the ardour and 
intrepidity of the dogs that followed it. 

We crossed Looe river by a long and ancient 
bridge of fifteen arches; stopping for a minute to 
contemplate its views of much animation and beauty. 
The sea ? the shipping, the two opposite towns, 
abrupt rocks, dark chasms, and little sequestered 
pools, or recesses of water, form a very agreeable 
pifture to the south. Up the river the eye ranges 
over a scene of equal interest, though of different 
char after, Looe river and the Dulo creek, which 



[ 93 3 

unite above the bridge, are seen leading their 
waters from the right and left through hollow val- 
lies flanked by hold swells of ground, which, well 
wooded on their sides, claim the praise of beauty as 
well as of grandeur. Trenant Park, late the seat of 

Sir John Morshead, ban. but now of Buller, 

esq; has a happy situation on this promontory of 
separation, embracing all the objecls between itself 
and the ocean. 

At Looe we again lost sight for many miles of 
the picluresque, picking our way through an intri- 
cate road of fifteen miles, in a country which would 
be superlatively tedious, did it not afford occasional 
views of the ocean, an objecl: that always interests 
and enlivens. Another ferry over the mouth of the 
river, from whence the town has its name, took us 
to Fowey, from the opposite village of Polruan, 
and gave us again some magnificent features of rock 
scenery. These vast natural masses of shistus rise 
with great dignity at the mouth of the harbour, 
surmounted with forts for its defence. That of St, 
Catherine is supplied with ordnance, which, from 
their commanding situation, appear to be capable 
of preventing the entrance of any hostile ship that 
might make an attempt upon the town. 

Complaints of the decay of commerce from the 
continuance of the war, and the shutting up of the 



[ 94 ] 

Mediterranean ports, were as loud and general here 
as at Looe. The stock of pilchards, the staple 
commodity of the place, the fruit of the toil of 
several seasons, was decaying on the hands of the 
inhabitants. Trade had stajnated,and industry had 
lost its stimulus; for what inducement can there be 
to labour, when all its effects issue only in disap- 
pointment and loss ? Ah! my friend, when will that 
happy period arrive, that shall behold the rulers of 
the world (anxious for the happiness of society) once 
more resting from the senseless struggles of ambition, 
and giving some pause to the misery of mankind? 
When, considering their own proper glory as identi- 
fied with the prosperity of their subjects, they shall 
bid the sword of war rest in its scabbard and be still? 
When the nations of the civilized world, hushed by 
their flat into peace, shall again exhibit that picture 
of plenty and tranquillity to which Christendom has 
so long been a stranger? When " their garners 
" shall be full and plenteous with all manner of 
" stores; when their oxen shall be strong to labour; 
" when there shall be no decay, no leading into 
" captivity, and no complaining in their streets ?" 

We found another ferry at Par, after a pleasant 
ride for some distance over the sands ; as these are 
only passable at ebb, owing to a jutting low pro. 
montory, which is washed by the sea near the time 



t 95 ] 

of flood, it is necessary to be previously acquainted 
with the state of the tide, and in case of its being 
near high water, to take a circuitous route, and 
cross the river at St. Blazey bridge. 

The road now diverged from the cliff, and soon 
brought us into the neighbourhod of St. Austle's, 
a country decorated with several gentlemen's seats, 
some respectable woods, and highly ornamented 
grounds. The town itself is narrow, but neat ; and 
the church, particularly its tower, a beautiful exam- 
ple of Gothic architecture.* 

If we might be allowed to estimate the religion of 
Cornwall in former times, by the general patronage 
which the Saints seem to have possessed in it, we 



* Three miles short of St. Austle's, a little to the left, is 
Menabilly, the seat of Philip Rashleigh, esq,- M. P. for 
Fowey j a gentleman on whom I had determined to call, 
being well assured, that from his well-known urbanity and 
hospitality, I should have met with a cordial reception, and 
a ready gratification of that curiosity which had been excited 
by his splendid publication on the subject of County Mine- 
ralogy. Unfortunately, from diredions not well understood, 
I overshot his house; and was prevented from participating 
with W— (from whom I had been accidentally separated) 
the pleasure of inspecting a Cabinet of Minerals, the product 
of forty years purchase and collection j containing specimens 
numerous though seleft, rare, costly, and superb. 



[ 96 ] 

should be disposed to rate it very highly, as there is 
scarcely a village which does not boast such holy 
tutelage. These consecrated gentlemen, and mem- 
bers of parliament, are indeed, equally numerous 
through the county. They go hand in hand toge- 
ther; conferring and receiving mutual honour and 
respectability. W — marvelled at the heterogeneous 
combination ; we both however, rejoiced at finding 
a portion of our senators in such good company, and 
traced many of the excellencies of St. Stephen to 
the passive virtues of' his brother saints in this dis- 
tant county. 

As we entered into St. Austle's, we were met by 
several carts loaded with barrels, containing a white 
earthly substance ; which, on enquiry, we under- 
stood to be the porcelain earth from St. Stephen's 
parish, (a district at a little distant to the north-west 
of St. Austle's,) used in the china manufactories of 
Staffordshire and other places, and going for expor- 
tation to a little town built by Mr. Rashleigh of 
Menabilly, called Charlestown, on the neighbour- 
ing coast. This article is a decomposed felspar, 
produced in the vallies under the granite hills about 
St. Stephen's, the mica of which is quite white. 
The clay arising from this decomposition occurs 
about six feet under the surface, and continues to 
the depth of three fathoms on an average. The 



t 97 J 

method practised for its purification, is casting h 
into a pit under a fall of water about four feet high. 
Here it is dissolved; the masses of granite which are 
not decomposed falling to the bottom, whilst the 
lighter and useful particles are carried by the stream 
into two other pits, of different levels, connected 
with the first, and following each other. When the 
water in this last reservoir is pure and transparent on 
the surface, it is drained off, and the sediment at the 
bottom is the article of trade. The residuum of the 
first pit is of no value; but that of the second is 
preserved for use, though of inferior value to the 
deposit in the last. When dried in the pits to the 
consistency of clay fit for moulding into bricks, it is 
taken out, put into casks of about 500 cwt. each, and 
shipped for Staffordshire and Wales. The works of 
Messrs. Spode and Wolf in Staffordshire consume 
the greatest part of this product They hold the 
principal work under a rent to the lord of about 
900/. per annum. It is estimated, that on an average 
of seven years, nearly 1200 tons of this clay are an- 
nually shipped from Cornwall. It consists of about 
two-thirds of silex and one of argil. The profits 
of St. Stephen's works, however, are not confined to 
the pulverized clay : a considerable portion of them 
arises from the exportation of white granite in lumps, 
which is sent to the same porcelain manufactories to 

H 



[ 98 ] 

be ground for use: it is said to make a beautiful 
enamel. 

As we were now within two miles of one of the 
largest and most ancient of the Cornish Tin-Mines, 
called Polgooth, we promised ourselves much plea- 
sure in the survey of an object which would be new 
to us both. When we reached the spot, however, 
we were mortified to find that its working had been 
discontinued for two years past. Long protracted 
war, like death " with his mace petrific" had stop- 
ped its processes; and silence and solitude were 
spread over the spot, which had for centuries been 
enlivened by the bustle of business, and the noise of 
labour. Though the product of the works had 
amounted from 15,000/. to 18,000/. per annum, 
yet such was the deadness of the market, that the 
proprietors had deemed it prudent for a time to shut 
them up. It-is, however, fortunately in my power 
to gratify you with an account of this extensive 
mine, as it appeared a few years back, in brighter 
days, written by a gentleman who has the happy 
faculty cf combining elegant description with 
scientific accuracy, of making the minute interesting, 
and throwing a charm over the driest subject.* 



* See Dr. Ma ton's Observations on the Western Counties 
•f England, vol. i, p. 155. Salisbury, 1/97. In addition to 



C 99 3 

" Polgooth, one of the richest and largest tin-mines 
" in the county., if not in the world, is situated 
" about two miles south-west from St* Austle. The 



the other valuable information to be 'found in Dr. Maton's 
remarks on Cornwall, it should not be omitted to be men- 
tioned, that they contain descriptions of many of its rare and 
peculiar plants. On our return home we found that we had 
missed another object of curiosity in the neighbourhood, the' 
Stream-Tin works of St. Austle Moor, called Poth-Strcam 
works. The spot where these occur is a narrow valley about 
a furlong wide, (in some places somewhat wider,) running 
near three miles from the town of St. Austle southward to 
the sea. On each side, and at the head above St. Austle, 
are many hills, betwixt which there are little vallies which 
all discharge their waters, and whatever else they receive 
from the higher grounds, into St. Austle's Moor ; whence it 
happens that the ground of this moor is all adventitious for 
about three fathoms deep, the shodes and streams from the 
hills on each side, being here collected and ranged into floors 
according to their weight, and the successive dates of their 
coming thither. The uppermost coat consists of three 
layers of earth, clay, and pebbly gravel, about five feet deep j 
the next stratum is about six feet deep, more strong, the 
stones pebbly-formed, with a gravely sand intermixed j these 
two coverings being removed, they find great numbers of tin- 
stones from the bigness of a goose egg, and sometimes larger* 
down to the size of the finest sand. The tin is inserted in a 
stratum of loose smoothened stones, from a foot diameter down- 
wards to the smallest pebble. From the present surface of 
ihe rock, down to the solid rock or karn , is eighteen feet deep 
H 2 



[ 100 ] 

" surrounding country is for many miles bleak, bar- 
" ren, anJ tedious to the eye. I ought not indeed 
u to call it barren, for its bowels contain riches, 



at a medium : in the solid rock there is no tin. This stream- 
tin is of the purest kind, and great part of it, without any 
other management than being washed upon the spot, brings 
thirteen parts for twenty at the melting-house j that is, upon 
delivering twenty pounds of this tin-ore at the melting- 
house, the melter will contract to deliver to the owner's 
order thirteen pounds of melted tin at the coinage. Borlasc's 
Natural History of CormvaU, p i63.— In Mr. Borlase's 
time, two blocks of melted tin were found in these works, 
weighing twenty-eight pounds each, of a different shape to 
the modern Cornish blocks of tin : without stamp,, but 
having a semicircular handle to each. They were supDOsed 
to be of the reign of King John, when the Jews monopolized 
the tin trade of Cornwall j and to have been the production 
of one of their smeiting-houses, near this place, accidentally 
washed into the valley, and covered with later depositions. 
Dr. Maton has the following valuable observations on these 
stream- works : — " The sand at Par" (to which they extend) 
e< is in some places seventy feet deep, and large blocks of 
" granite lie buried in it. It appears to me that both about 
ft Poth and Par the soil has been formed partly by deposit 
" from the sea, and partly by mould and fragments washed 
11 by streams from the surrounding mountains. The shells 
"■ which abound in the stream-wc irk ; at all depths are proofs 
'* of the former, and numerous rivulets may be traced from 
•• the granite ridges- about Luxulian and Lanlivery to the 



t 101 ] 

u though like the shabby mien of the miser, its 
" aspect does not correspond with the hoards. 
" There are no less than fifty shafts in Polgooth ; 



< e margin of the bay where they empty themselves. These 
{C have washed down pieces of ore from its beds, and perhaps 
" remnants of old workings, and the sea has afterwards 
if covered them with mud and sand, which are now earned 
" off by brisk streams of water condu&ed over the ground* 
** in little channels, so as to leave the pebbles at the bottom \ 
" hence the name of stream-works, which most probably were 
" the earliest method discovered by our ancestors for pro- 
" curing the ore of tin. After being pounded by a machine 
** made for the purpose, (and turned by water,) and again 
u washed in order to be cleansed as much as possible from 
" earthly particles, the ore is sent to the smelting-house to 
*' be made into malleable metal. So valuable is the supply 
" of water used in some of the stream-works, that when 
<c turned from grist mill tenants, it has been let for 50/. per 
i( month, for several years following. — At Poth the famous 
" wood-tin, as it is called, (from the appearance of wood which 
ts some of the pebbles exhibit) has been found abundantly, 
" but it is now scarce. It has nearly the colour of hamate 
" tites, (and indeed contains some iron,) with fine streaks or 
tc stria converging to the different centres, like the radiated 
" zeolite. It is hard enough to give sparks with steel, and 
i( when broken still shews a fibrous appearance. Professor 
" Brunnich, of Copenhagen, says that it gives thirty-four 
" parts of tin in an hundred. Klaproth found that it yieldsd 
" more than sixty-three." — Maton's Obs. vol. i. p. 153, IS 



C 102 ] 

* 4 twenty-six are still in use, with as many horizontal 
*' wheels, or whims. The main vein of ore, which 
" is about six feet thick, runs fpom east to west, 
" and dips to the north at the rate of about six feet 
" in a fathom. Towards the east it divides into 
" two branches, and there is another that cuts the 
" former nearly at a right angle, and consequently 
" runs north and south, dipping to the east. The 
" exacl extent of this mine has not been ascertained, 
" but we are informed that it has afforded tin the 
" full length of a mile. The depth of the engine- 
" shaft is about one hundred and ten fathoms, and 
" this machine draws up, at each stroke, a column 
<c of water thirty feet in height and fifteen inches in 
<c diameter. There is also an excellent overshot 
" water-engine with a wheel 36 feet in diameter. 
" The ore is disseminated in general through a 
" matrix of caple> accompanied with,yellow cupre- 
" ous pyrites, and sometimes ferrugineous ochre. 
66 It is of the vitreous kind, but rarely found in 
" crystals; the colour for the most part greyish 
" brown. The country of the ore is chiefly a greyish 
cc killas, but we observed large heeps of what the 
" miners call elvan- stone about the shafts. This 
" substance, they told us, formed a cross course, 
" and drove the vein of tin several feet out of the 
" dirett line. Polgooth is said to have yielded a 



[ 103 ] 

£€ clear profit of 1500/. per month, and Borlase 
" mentions that in his time the proprietors gained 
" 20,000/. annually, several years following. Up- 
" wards of 17,000/. were expended, however, before 
•* the mine yielded one shilling." 

The tower of St. Mewan's church, peeping from 
a clump of trees, was a pleasing object to the eye 
that had not rested on any of Nature's loveliness for 
many miles; and we were reminded, as we pro- 
ceeded, that new habits of rural life were opening 
upon us, by the little flocks of goats and kids which 
skipped about in the neighbourhood 'of the road, 
affording milk for the dairy, and food for the pea- 
sant. The tower of Probus church too could not 
be passed without attention : it called forth the 
reflection, that if its magnificence do not prove the 
genuine piety of our ancestors, it at least evinces 
they spared no cost or labour in the construction 
and decoration of edifices set apart for the worship 
of their Maker. 

At Tresilian, about eleven miles from St. 
Austle, we again encountered an element from which 
we had reluctantly been separated. St. Clement's 
creek, a branch of Falmouth harbour, flows up to 
the village, and forms, with its accompaniments^ a 
striking contrast to the general character of Corn- 
wall, as far as we had yet seen of it, A short dis- 



[ 104 j 

tance from hence, the more approved appearance of 
the country, a more careful cultivation, and a few 
gentlemen's mansions, rari nantes in gurgite vasto, 
intimated that we approached the town of Truro, 
which soon appeared, and afforded us the repose of 
which we stood so much in need. 

I am, my dear Sir, 

Your's sincerely, 

R. W. 



Bristol Chan 



British Channel 




Lizard Point 



LETTER IV. 



TO THE SAME. 



mt dear sir, Si. Ives, August 12. 

NOTHING surely can be more hostile to the 
beauties of Nature than the processes of 
mining. Its first step is to level the little wood (if 
indeed there be any) with which she may have gar- 
nished the spots where she has concealed her ores. 
It then penetrates into the earth, and covers the 



C 106 ] 

neighbouring soil with unproductive rubbish. It 
proceeds to poison the brooks around with its 
mineral impregnations ; spreads far and wide the 
sulphureous smoke of its smelting-houses; blasting 
vegetation with their deleterious vapours, and ob- 
scuring the atmosphere with the infernal fumes of 
arsenic and sulphur. 

Such were our reflections when we touched upon 
the mining country in our way to Penrhyn. It 
appeared to us like a district filled with extinguished 
volcanoes, which, having exhausted their fury, could 
now only be traced in the universal desolation they 
had occasioned. As our inspection of this remark- 
able feature of Cornwall was to be reserved till we 
had the advantage of being conduced through the 
mines by an intelligent friend at Penrhyn, we did not 
permit ourselves to be led astray by such tempting 
objects, but continued our course through this bald 
but valuable country till within half a mile of our 
intended stage. 

Here our attention was directed to an old barn to 
the left hand, remarkable for having been the scene 
of an event that furnished the plot of one of the most 
tragical and affecting of our English plays. I allude 
to " The Fatal Curiosity," written by Lillo ; a 
drama that had its origin in a tale of family dis- 
tress that literally happened at a dwelling-house 



I 167 I 

which formerly stood on the spot we were now 
upon. The story is as follows: 

During the seventeenth century, a family (whose 
name I have forgotten) that had long lived at Penrhyn 
in credit, was, by some unforeseen reverse of fortune, 
suddenly reduced from affluence to bankruptcy : It 
consisted of a father, mother, and son ; a youth idol- 
ized by his parents, beloved by his friends, and who 
had been nourished up at home with all the tenderness 
which usually centers in an only child. Unwilling 
to be a burthen upon his father and mother, when the 
poor wreck of their substance was scarcely sufficient 
to support themselves, and anxious by his own 
exertions to repay the debt of gratitude which lie 
owed them, and repair the havock that misfortune 
had made in their affairs ; the generous youth deter- 
mined to seek employment abroad, and having 
acquired a competence, to return and share it with 
his parents. The hour at length arrived, when this 
little family group were, for the first time, to be 
separated ; and they, who, like yourself, have ex- 
perienced the blessings of domestic harmony, will 
readily conceive the sorrows of the parting. But the 
hapless youth had other ties to England, besides his 
father's roof. A secret attachment had long sub- 
sisted between a young lady of Penrhyn, and himself, 
which, though the misfortunes of his family could 



[ 108 3 

not extinguish, they still rendered it necessary to 
conceal. The claims of duty were, however, para- 
mount to those of love ; he pressed his treasure to 
his bosom, and hastened on board the ship that was 
to tear him from all he valued upon earth. The 
parents retired from Penrhyn, and with their small 
remains of fortune, entered on a farm in the hamlet 
of Tremough. Here a few years rolled tediously 
and mournfully on, enlivened indeed occasionally by 
accounts of their son's success, biit past by them, 
for the most part, in sorrow and suffering - 7 in sti ug- 
gling with ill success, and in anticipating all the 
horrors of ultimate want. The young man, in the 
mean time, having acquired what to his moderate 
wishes seemed enough, determined to return to 
England ; and without notifying his intention to his 
parents, embarked on board a ship bound for his 
native land. He landed at Falmouth, and flew like 
lightning to Penrhyn, where constancy and love 
awaited him, and soon obliterated from his memory 
all the pains of absence. To enhance the joy of his 
parents at his unexpected return, it was agreed that 
he should disguise himself, go to their dwelling in 
the evening, pass the night there as a stranger, and 
acknowledge himself in the morning for their 
long- lost son. The night was dark and dismal, 

' ' Sky lour'dj and muttering thunder, some sad drops 
« Wept," 



C 109 ] 

at the approaching scene of woe; but the youth, un* 
suspicious of the portent, and exulting in his heart at 
the near termination of his parents' difficulties, went 
gaily on, carrying under his arm a casket of his 
treasure, which he intended in the morning to be 
the offering of his filial afFe&ion. He knocked at 
the door, and craved a lodging, promising to remu- 
nerate his hosts for the trouble he should give. The 
chance of a trifling gain was an object to the 
wretched pair, and they granted his request. In 
his momentary absence from the room, the mother 
with a fatal curiosity uncovered the calket, and saw 
that its contents were gold. Her heart was now 
at war with feeling. The frightful form of ap- 
proaching poverty had long floated before her fancy, 
and filled her soul with dark and desperate ideas. 
The treasure promised the means of saving her 
from the shame and sufferings of want, and she 
determined to possess it. The youth now retired 
to bed ; when the mother disclosed to her husband 
the discovery she had made; and urged him to 
secure it for themselves by murdering the stranger! 
The horror of the deed for a moment suspended its 
execution, but ah ! my friend, what a foe is poverty 
to virtue! the scruples of the husband were quickly 
overcome, and he determined to commit the horrid 
act. The ruthless pair accordingly proceeded to the 



'[ 110 ] 

stranger's chamber, and whilst the mother held the 
light, the father thrust his knife into the heart of his 
guest. To avoid detection, it was necessary to 
bury the body of the murdered youth immediately; 
but what stretch of imagination can conceive the 
agony of the wretched parents, when, from some 
private marks, known only to themselves, they dis- 
covered their viclim to be their only child ! Happily 
the story ceases here ; nor, were tradition more 
cornpleat, would I attempt to delineate those feelings 
of unutterable remorse which such a catastrophe 
must have produced in the survivors of this dread- 
ful drama. 

To them who have been accustomed only to the 
towns on the great roads of the kingdom, or those 
near its metropolis, even the second-rate towns of 
Cornwall would not be considered as deficient both 
in elegance and convenience. They are narrow and 
irregular, and what is still worse, generally paved 
with pebbles from the shore, the points of which 
being turned upwards forma footing neither safe 
nor pleasant. Penrhyn is remedying this inconve- 
nience, being at this moment under an improve- 
ment which will conduce much to the comfort of 
the inhabitants, by having its foot-way flagged with 
moor-stone. It is this article which at present 
forms the chief export of the town; as the durability 



t m i 

of the Cornish granite has rendered the demand for 
it very large of late. Government is the chief pur- 
chaser of it for the use of the dock-yards ; where it 
rs applied to many purposes* in which hitherto it had 
been the custom to use timber. It is brought down 
from the moors, worked, and delivered at the quay 
at is. 6d. per square foot ; an high, but not an ex- 
orbitant price, as it should seem, when the hardness 
of the material, the great expense in tools, and the 
difficulty of working it, are considered. The ap- 
pearance of Penrhyn is enlivened, and its situation 
rendered highly advantageous, by a branch of Fal- 
mouth harbour, called King's-road, flowing up to 
the town. The tower of St. Gluvias, the parish 
church of Penrhyn, on the opposite side of the water, 
rising from a tuft of trees, would in any situation be 
deemed an agreeable object; in Cornwall it was, 
Stellas inter luna minores^ and assumed additional 
beauty from the rarity of such picturesque objects 
in the county. . • 

The route to Falmouth, distant two miles from: 
Penrhyn, skirts for some distance along the shore of. 
King's-road, and then mounts a hill which takes -a 
more direct course to this town. The views, for the 
greatest part of the ride, are strikingly fine ; gradu- 
ally expanding under the eye, and introducing in 
quick succession new features of grandeur and beamy. 



[ 112 ] 

Amongst these objects, the numerous ramifications, 
sweeps, creeks, and rivers of Falmouth harbour, 
one of the most capacious and commodious in 
Europe, claim the chief attention. Close to the 
left appears KingVroad, losing itself in the larger 
expanse of water, called Cerrig-road ; whose north- 
ern termination is seen dividing into a variety of 
lesser branches, indenting the country to the right 
and left. Farther to the south, in the same direc- 
tion, the eastern shore of Cerrig water spreads 
itself in long extent before the eye; together with 
the country that skirts it, including several towns 
and villages, the castle of St. Mawe's, the towns of 
Flushing, St. Just, their little creeks, and commo- 
dious ports. Immediately in front is Falmouth, its 
shipping, and quays, washed by the waves of its 
magnificent harbour ; and defended by the proud 
fortress of Pendennis, which crowns with great dig- 
nity the summit of a promontory, that braves the 
ocean a mile and a half to the south-east of the 
town. It must be confessed, however, that the 
charms of Falmouth are external ; and lie without 
its immediate limits. Irregular in form, with houses 
of no elegance y streets that follow the capricious 
risings and declivities of the unequal ground on 
which they are built, and paved with the execrable 
pointed pebbles from the shore \ it has no claim to 



[ 113 ] 

attention, except the a&ivity of its trade, the bustle 
of its quays, and the great variety which it exhibits 
of human countenances, whose commercial concerns 
bring them from all parts of Europe, in the packets 
which sail at stated days in the week and month 
to the various ports of the West-Indies and the Con- 
tinent. It is, however, a place of great population, 
wealth, and respectability; and from the unequalled 
convenience of its harbour, deserves a much larger 
portion of the attention and encouragement of 
government than in has been honoured with. Un- 
happily, to use a proverbial expression, it has no 
friend at court ; in other words, it does not return 
any members to the British senate; though its 
dirty little opposite neighbour, St. Mawe's, a 
mean village, with no house of God in it, and few 
houses fit for the residence of man, enjoys the pri- 
vilege of being represented in Parliament. This 
will account for the petty intrigues which have 
always interposed to destroy any scheme for the 
aggrandizement of Falmouth, by turning the atten- 
tion of Parliament to its harbour ; though one of 
the greatest naval names of the present day, Lord 
St. Vincent, has repeatedly declared, that with a 
few very practicable improvements, it would furnish 
the best situation for dock-yards, and other naval 
accommodations, in Europe. 

I 



t "4 ] 

Falmouth, perhaps, contains a greater propor- 
tion of persons adhering to different religious seels, 
than any other town of its size in the kingdom, 
and (what is equally remarkable, and well deser- 
ving the attention of high priests and zealots,) 
all living in harmony and charity together. The 
Jews form a considerable part of its population, and 
have a synagogue for the celebration of their reli- 
gious rites. Still more numerous are the Quakers ; 
highly respectable, and much esteemed for that sim- 
plicity of manners, inoffensiveness of behaviour, and 
strictness of morality, which characterize and dignify 
the seel ; and preserve, amidst the ruins of Christ- 
ianity, a pattern of the original fabrick. Though 
more remarkable for the retiring virtues, let it not 
be thought that this worthy description of people 
exhibit no examples of acts of splendid excellence. 
A proof of this occurred a few years ago in Fal- 
mouth, which should be recorded to the honour of 
the sect, and the family to which the credit sub- 
ject of the anecdote belonged: — Towards the con- 
clusion of the American war, when France had 
become an ally of the United States, a ship of St. 
Ives, in which Mr. Joseph Fox, a surgeon, at Fal- 
mouth, was part owner, being fitted out by the 
majority of proprietors as a letter of marque, took 
several French prizes on a successful cruize, and 



[ 115 | 

brought them into port : the cargoes were of course 
sold, and the amount of it divided amongst the own« 
crs of the vessel. Mr. Fox, however, considered this 
legalized species of robbery in a very different point 
of view with his partners in the ship, and having 
received his share in the concern, actually employed 
an agent to go to Paris, and enquire by advertise- 
ment in the Gazette, who were the proprietors of 
the captured vessels, that he might restore to them 
all he had received of the unhallowed spoil. Dr. 
Franklin, who has honoured this anecdote with the 
mention of it in one of his essays, (but without men- 
tioning the name of Mr. Fox,) says at the conclu- 
sion of the recital, " this conscientious man is a 
"Quaker."* To this I would add, that however 
lofty this effort of virtue may appear to be to the 
generality of mankind, it will not seem extraordi- 
nary to those who are well acquainted with the 
principles and practices of the seel in general, or 
have the still greater happiness of knowing person- 
ally the excellencies of the remaining relations of 



* Franklin's Essays, vol. ii. p. 119. The whole of this 
essay of its immortal author is well worth the attention of 
states as well as individuals. It is entitled, « On the Crimi- 
nal Laws, and the Practice of Privateering" 



I 2 



[ 116 3 

tlie truly great man who has set such a brilliant 
example of justice and honour to mankind. 

Falmouth draws considerable sums of money 
from the fleets that are detained at the chops of the 
Channel by contrary winds ; particularly the out- 
ward-bound ones, which seek refuge in its safe and 
capacious harbour, and frequently wait here for 
many weeks, till the gales are more propitious. An 
instance of this accidental but beneficial embargo 

o 

had occurred a few weeks before we were there \ 
when General Spencer's expedition, consisting of 
7000 men, had been wind-bound in the harbour for 
nine weeks, and left 30,000/. behind them when 
they went away. At the moment of our entering 
the town, a bustling scene of embarkation of troops 
that had been confined here for several days, was 
taking place; the regiments under the command 
of General Acland, destined for the assistance of 
the Patriots in Spain, The wind had suddenly 
veered about to a fair point, and signals were 
out for the immediate return of those who were 
on shore on board their respective ships. Never 
was a scene of greater hurry or animation, or one 
that more irresistibly carried the imagination along 
with it. The real glory of the cause in which 
they were about to engage flashed upon our fancy ; 
and " perish the man whose wishes of success do 



[ 117 ] 

** not accompany them," was the involuntary, secret 
suggestion of our minds. We considered that it 
was a cause which involved the political existence 
of a nation brave, honourable, and virtuous ; of a 
people placed in a predicament new to mankind, and 
trying an experiment as important as it is unexam- 
pled ; of a people deserted by its government, and 
energizing for itself; contending, in the literal sense 
of the words, pro arts et focis, against an unprin- 
cipled ambition, that having crushed and disgraced 
its enemies, had now turned its arms against its 
friends, and thus subverted every principle of justice, 
and violated every feeling of honour. Tax us not 
then with enthusiastic folly, if I say that the sight 
before us not only interested our feelings in the 
success of the cause which had occasioned it, but 
at the same time filled our minds with the most 
pleasing anticipation of its eventual triumph.* We 



* The above was written before that inauspicious omen^ 
the celebrated Convention with Junot, had taken place 5 an 
event fraught with such triumph and advantage to the 
enemy, as must cast the most disastrous gloom over the- 
future prospects of the assertors of Spanish liberty, 

" Hide, blushing Glory," Cintru's fatal rt day," 



t »18 ] 

recollected, that the Spaniards, though abandoned 
by their natural protectors, are placed, perhaps, by 
that very desertion, in a situation more favourable 
for exertion than even had they possessed such 
inefficient defenders. For what is the amount of 
their loss ? They are now set free from old, 
hereditary, corrupt rulers, — from persons who go- 
verned by rote, — from the creatures of intrigue, or 
at best the creatures of form and precedent — from 
the feeble beings who will only suffer men to serve 
the country according to their pedigrees, contem- 
ners of merit and personal acquirements, scoffers at 
the divinity of talents — to whom, melancholy to 
reflect, the fate of Europe has been entrusted for the 
last twenty years, and in whose hands the cause of 
regular government and national independence has 
been placed, at a moment when all the bad passions 



It is some consolation, however, under the pressure of this 
national misfortune, to observe, that the people feel the dis- 
grace which has been accumulated upon their country, and 
are seeking, with a becoming earnestness, for a full, free, fair, 
and impartial enquiry into the conduct of the authors of it ; 
that punishment may fall wherever the crime originated ; 
that the stain may be wiped from the military glory of the 
country ; and some reparation be made to the wounded 
honour of the nation. 



I "9 1 

of man's nature were let loose against them, and 
had armed all the genius of a mighty people for 
their destru&ion.* 

Being anxious to contemplate so interesting a 
sight as a large fleet under sail, after a short stay in 
Falmouth we proceeded to Pendennis Castle, which 
would afford us an opportunity of following the 
expedition with our eye till they were lost beyond 
the horizon. The situation of this fortress, a mile 
to the southward of Falmouth, is bold and com- 
manding; embracing a view of a great extent of 
coast, and a vast sweep of ocean. Its works are 
respectable, and manned by a body of artillery, with 
a governor, lieutenant-governor, &c. It is proba- 
ble that such an advantageous scite would not have 
been overlooked by our military ancestors, under 
the different dynasties of Romans, Saxons, and Nor- 
mans ; but the present fortress dates no further 
back than the time of Henry VIII. who built a 
castle on this promontory, which was afterwards en- 
larged and strengthened by his daughter Elizabeth, 
History-)- tells us, that it was bravely defended against 



* See an admirable and eloquent disquisition on Spanish 
affairs, in Edinburgh Review., No. xxiv. p. 439. 

•(• Grose's Antiquities, vol. viil. p- 43, 



[ 120 ] 

the Parliamentary forces by John Arundel, of Tre- 
rice, then nearly eighty years of age ; who was 
assisted by his son Richard, a colonel in the Royal 
army, (afterwards created Lord Arundel of Trerice,) 
and many other loyal gentlemen of the county of 
Cornwall. They held it, with unconquerable perse- 
verance, till* they had not provision for twenty-four 
hours, and then negociated with such seeming 
indifference, and insisted so firmly on the articles 
they required, that the enemy, ignorant of their 
situation, granted them their own conditions, which 
were 1 as good as had been given to any garrison in 
the kingdom. , The scite of the castle anciently 
belonged to the Killigrews, a respectable family of 
Falmouth in former times. On our return we 
passed their mansion, which stands on the left of 
the road, and still preserves some features of its 
original architecture. This, and Mr. Fox's beautiful 
seat, (Grove Hill,) which lies in its neighbourhood, 
and possesses every circumstance of beauty, and 
advantage of situation, are the only private resi- 
dences that claim any attention in the vicinity of 
Falmouth. 

Our curiosity had already been excited by a dis- 
tant view of the famous Druidical Remain in Con- 
stantine parish, called by the initiated the Tolmen 9 
or Hole of Stone, by the unlearned the Cornish Feb- 



t 121 ] 

Ne 9 whose huge bulk lifting itself high in air, is 
seen for miles before it is approached. Our kind 
and intelligent friend, to whom we had been intro- 
duced at Penrhyn, was both our guide to this 
ancient monument of superstition through an intri- 
cate road of eight miles, and the interpreter of its 
uses and designs when we reached it. Nothing can 
be more striking than the appearance of this object. 
It diffused around it the magic influence ascribed by 
the poet to these druidical remains ; 



— _ _ _ . — "And aw'd our souls, 
ie As if the very Genius of the place 
tc Himself appear'd, and with terrific tread 
*' Stalk' d through his drear domain." 



Highly appropriate to its tremendous character is 
the savage spot on which it stands. The first idea 
that impressed our minds on approaching it, was the 
gloomy mture of that superstition which had selected 
such a desert for its rites, the focal point of solitude 
and desolation, where nothing met the eye around 
but nature in her primaeval rudeness ; vast rocks of 
granite starting out of the ground, of every form, 
and in every direction ; occupying the same places, 
and maintaining the same positions into which they 
had been thrown, by the last general convulsion of 



[ 122 ] 

our planet. But, however extraordinary these indi- 
vidual masses might have appeared to us, had they 
been seen independently of the Tolmen, our atten- 
tion was almost exclusively occupied, and our won- 
der entirely absorbed, by this superlative obje&$ 
which, like Milton's Satan, 



_--.."• Above the rest, 

" In shape and gesture proudly eminent, 
" Stood like a tower." 



An account of its dimensions and form will afford 
you the best idea of the impression produced on the 
mind by its appearance. The length of the Tolmee 
is 33 feet, its breadth 18 feet 6 inches, and its depth 
14 feet 6 inches; measuring 97 feet in circumfe- 
rence, and weighing at least 750 tons. Its figure 
approaches to that of an egg ; the extremities point- 
ing due north and south, and the sides facing the 
opposite points of the compass. A natural acerva- 
tion of granite forms the broad foundation of the 
Tolmen, which is elevated on the points of two of 
these masses that lift themselves higher than those 
around. These lie detached from each other, so as 
to allow a passage of three or four feet wide, and 
nearly as much in height, for any one to creep 
through whose curiosity can encounter a little 



[ 123 ] 

inconvenience.* Whether this huge fragment of 
rock were placed in its present situation by mecha- 
nical processes, with which we are no longer 
acquainted! or by the mere dint of multitudinous 
and unconquerable exertion, which we know has 
effected, and can effect prodigies of labour, for, as 
Johnson observes, " savages in all countries have 
" patience proportionate to their unskilfulness, and 
" are content to attain their end by very tedious 
" methods ; " or whether the stones remain at this 
moment as they were originally placed by the hand 
of Nature, and owe nothing more to human indus- 
try than the removal of the bare earth in which they 
were at first surrounded and concealed, has been 
disputed with all that ardour, which questions, that 
never can be demonstrated, invariably excite. We 



* It seems probable that this passage was originally the in- 
strument of holy juggle, and applied to the superstitious pur- 
poses, either of purification or penance, or for the removal 
of bodily disorders. In the county of Waterford, in Ireland, 
is a druidical remain of this kind, which vulgar superstition 
still believes to retain the power of curing rheumatism. It is 
called St. Dedan's Rock, and lies shelving upon the point of a 
rock ; and on the patron-day of this saint, great numbers creep 
under this stone three times, in order, as they pretend, to cure 
or prevent pains in the back.— History of Wat erf or d } p. JO. 



[ 124 I 

were inclined, after an attentive consideration of the 
Tolmen, to attribute its elevation to the art of man, 
and for the following reasons ; In the first place, 
the two supporting stones appeared to U6 to afford 
the appearance of their having been fitted to receive 
their incumbent weight ; in the second, the exact 
correspondence of the four sides of the Tolmen to 
the cardinal points of the compass, seemed to indi- 
cate astronomical design ; and in the third, its regu- 
lar form and horizontal position could not, we 
thought, be considered as the result of accident, but 
as a combination produced by human labour. Of 
the truth of this last conclusion we were more fully 
assured by a survey of its upper surface, which may 
be ascended by a ladder at the foot of the Tolmen. 
Here the work of art was too obvious to be over- 
looked or mistaken; the whole of this exterior 
having evidently been first made level, and then ex- 
cavated into numerous hollows or basins. Of these 
depressions the two most capacious are at the north 
and south extremities of the surface; the former 
being about five feet, the latter nearly seven feet in 
length; which seems to have been intended to 
receive .some fluid from the smaller ones* through 
little channels, connecting them with each other. 
The basins situated near the rim of the surface, have 
also small apertures to discharge their contents, not 



r 125 ] 

leading, however, into the horizontal hollows, but 
taking a direction down the sides of the Tolmen, and 
conducting their stream into other basins, scooped 
out in some flat rocks below. As these regular hol- 
lows are without any doubt the productions of irt, 
much has it exercised the ingenuity of the learned, 
to discover the use to which they were originally 
applied. Seen through the observation of twenty 
centuries, the superstition of Druidism is but dimly 
discovered, and none of its parts are clearly defined. 
Like other objects, therefore, perceived in a fog, 
k has been magnified by the medium of vision; 
and a complexity and refinement attributed to ir, 
which could not belong to any religious system, in a 
state of society so rude as the condition of our 
ancestors in the druidical times. Magic and won- 
der-working have been connected with its 

<c rites 

<( Mysterious ; rites of such strange potency, 
ie As done in open day, would dim the sun, 
" Though thron'd in noon-tide brightness;" 

and even our rock-basins have been made to serve 
the combined purposes of murder and enchantment. 
The probability, however, is, that their use was 
much more natural and simple. Purification by 
water was one of the most ancient religious rites, 



[ 126 ) 

of which we have any knowledge ; and though first 
made a positive instituton of worship by the Mosaical 
Jaw, it is likely that the practice had existed from 
the earliest ages of mankind. The use of this 
element, however, in the religious rites of the 
ancient world was not confined to lustration alone ; 
We have accumulated proofs, in profane as well as 
sacred writers, that libations were made of water 
both as acts of propitiation and as testimonies of 
gratitude.* But whether it was required in the 
sacred ceremonies, for purifying the worshippers, or 
as an offering to the deity, it is but reasonable to 
suppose, that water would be most carefully selected 
for the hallowed purpose which should be least 
polluted by heterogeneous substances. Now it 
is obvious that the most defecated state of this 
element, is that which falls from heaven under the 
forms of dew, snow, or rain ; which having been 
produced by evaporation from the earth, and con- 
densation in the atmosphere, must be entirely free 
from all foreign and polluting particles. Hence it 
necessarily became an object of care with the priest- 
hood to provide receptacles to catch these precious 



* See that most learned work of Spencer's De Leg. He* 
brseorum, lib. iv~ c. ii. p. IO98. 



[ 127 ] 

distillations of the skies, and the method adopted by 
the Druids for this purpose was, by exposing stones 
of a large and flat surface to the open air, which, 
being furnished with hollowed basins, connected 
with each other by communicating channels, would 
collect and retain whatever moisture might descend 
from above, either in the visible showers of rain or 
snow, or in the unseen form of nightly dews. It is 
to this Druidical custom of collecting the last-men- 
tioned production of the atmosphere, and the pur^ 
pose of lustration to which it was applied, that 
Mason alludes in one of his chorusses : 

" Lift your boughs of vervain blue, 

* s Dipt in cold September dew j 

<c And dash the moisture, chaste and clear, 

<s O'er the ground, and through the air." 

The above reasoning will, I think, not only suffi- 
ciently account for those artificial hollows which 
occur on the surface of the Tolmen I have described, 
but also for the like appearances to be found on all 
Druidical altars throughout the North of Europe, 
which indisputably exhibited the same rites, and 
served the same purposes, with our Cornish Pebble. 
The same principle explains the concavities in the 
stones that surround it on the ground below, which 
Were obviously intended to receive the sacred stream 



•[ 128 ] 

that fell from the surface of the upper stone, and to 
preserve as much as possible of this pure, precious, 
and hallowed element.* 

The Tolmen was only an introduction to the 
Druidical remains which our obliging conductors 
intended for our inspection. We hastened there- 
fore from this detached monument of Celtic super- 
stition, to one of more ample extent and greater 
variety, the celebrated Hill of Carn-bre, which we 
reached after a ride of nine or ten miles. The 
broad and craggy summit of this hill; crowned with a 
British fortress, and rough with earns, is seen from 
afar, frowning with barrenness, and towering over 
the adjacent country. It lies about two miles to the 
westward of Redruth. A copper-mine has been 
recently opened at its foot, and named with sufficient 
propriety, from its situation, the Druid ; the works 
of which are supplied with water from a copious 



* I am informed by my accomplished friend Dr. Charles 
Parry, of Bath, that Druidical monuments, with basins of 
this description, are not uncommon in some parts of Sweden; 
and that a remnant of the ancient superstitious veneration 
paid to them and their contents may still be traced, in a 
practice common with the peasantry of that country, of 
throwing into their concavities little pieces of money as they 
pass by them. 



[ 129 2 

spring near the summit of the hill, conducted to them 
through a range of iron pipes. Its depth at present 
is fifty-two fathoms; its ore rich, worth about 15/. 
per ton. Mr. Borlase, who has exhausted the sub« 
jecl of Druid ism, and who viewed Carn-bre not only 
with the eye of an amateur, but with a mind stored 
with good sound learning, has left us so complete a 
description of this extraordinary place, that it would 
be superfluous, if not presumptuous, to attempt 
another delineation of it : particularly as its appear- 
ance is much the same now, as it was forty years 
ago, with the exception of its having lost a few of its 
stones, which have been used by the proprietors of 
the hill, or split and pillaged by the people of the 
neighbourhood. The features of Carn-bre, indeed, 
are not of a very destructible kind ; for what can 
displace rocks which were stationed here at the 
creation, or deform a surface condemned to eternal 
and irremediable sterility ? It may be sufficient 
therefore to say, that the surface of the hill is 
covered with circles, cromlechs, and altars, disposed 
after regular plans, and included within walls, which 
marked the precincts of the holy ground. It seems, 
indeed, to have been the Jerusalem of the south- 
western Druids of Britain ; nor perhaps is there in 
Europe, a spot where the character of their most holy 
places is better illustrated or defined. Like Zion 



r iso ] 

of old, too, it seems to have been the seat of 
strength, as well as the residence of piety, being 
defended by a fortress certainly of British construc- 
tion, and probably coeval with the neighbouring 
ruder remains of superstition. The older part of 
this castle (for it has been added to of late years) is 
august in its appearance, and singular in its struc- 
ture. Its foundation is laid on a very irregular 
ledge of vast rocks, whose surfaces being of different 
heights, occasion the rooms on the ground-floor to 
be equally uneven also. Another irregularity arises 
from the circumstance of these rocks not being con- 
tiguous to each other, which of course obliged the 
architect to contrive so many arches between them 
as would carry the wall from one to the other. As 
the ledge on which the building stands is narrow, 
the rooms are small in proportion ; and the original 
rocks being much higher in one point than another, 
one portion of the fortress contains three stories of 
windows, whilst the other has but one. The walls 
are pierced throughout by loop-holes to descry 
the enemy, or to permit the arrows of the garrison 
to be discharged on them as they approached. It 
was near this fortress, that in the month of June 
1749, a large collection of gold coins was found, the 
production of a British mint anterior to the Roman 
invasion- 5 a few years previous to which discovery, 



C 131 ] 

several celts had been dug up in the same neighbour- 
hood j instruments supposed to have been used by 
the ancient Britons for warlike purposes. Perhaps, 
however, you will now have had enough of the 
" tales of other times," and be glad to be relieved 
from Druidism and its rites ; and to diversify the 
scene with a view of the largest Copper Mine in 
Cornwall, to which we proceeded after having 
minutely inspected every part of the Carn-bre hill. 

Dolcooth mine lies about three miles to the west- 
ward of Carn-bre, in a country. whose very entrails 
have been torn out by the industry of man, stimulated 
by the auri sacra fames. Here every thing is upon a 
great scale, and gives a wonderful idea of the results 
which human powers are capable of producing 
when concentrated into one point, and directed to one 
end. The works of the mine stretch upwards of a 
mile in length from east to west; an extent of ground 
penetrated by innumerable shafts, and honey- 
combed by as many subterraneous passages. Its 
depth is 1 200 feet. Five engines are occupied in 
bringing up ore and rubbish ; and three in freeing 
the mine from water. The largest of these, made by 
Bolton and Watts, is upon a stupendous scale; but 
contrived with such ingenious mechanism, that its 
vast operations are performed with an ease and 
quickness truly wonderful. The construction of the 

k 2 



C 132 ] 

beam, upon whose strength the whole success of 
the machine depends, is particularly admired. It 
was quite an awful sight to contemplate this prodi- 
gious body in a&ion, bowing and elevating alter- 
nately its enormous crest, executing the work of 
200 horses, and bringing up at every stroke (seven 
of which it makes in a minute) upwards of fifty gal- 
lons of water. Darwin's animated description of 
the steam-engine, naturally suggested itself to our 
minds, and we confessed that " imagination might 
" be listed under the banner of science"* without 
endangering the truth or accuracy of her mistress. 

< f Nymphs ! you erewhile o'er simmering cauldrons play'd, 

" And called delighted Savery to your aid ; 

" Bade round the youth explosive steam aspire, 

" In gathering clouds, and wing'd the wave with tire ; 

ec Bade with cold streams the quick expansion stop, 

tf And sunk the immense of vapour to a drop. — ■ 

<e Press'd by the ponderous air the piston falls, 

<e Resistless, sliding through its iron walls : 

fi Quick moves the balanc'd beam, of giant-birth, 

S( Wields his large limbs, and nodding shakes the earth." 

The unceasing rattle of this gigantic engine, the deep 
and dark abyss in which it works, and the smoke 



* Darwin's CEconomy of Vegetation, 1st canto, line 25; 
See his * Apology." 



C 133 ] 

that issued from the horrid mouth of the pit, 
formed a combination that could not be regarded 
without terror by those who are unaccustomed to 
such scenes. 

The persons employed at Dolcooth mine, including 
men, women, and children, those who are above 
and those who are under the earth, amount to about 
1600. — Its produce is from 60 to 70 tons of cop- 
per per month, and about 30/. worth of tin. The 
copper is worth, when dressed, 90/. per ton. But 
in order to give you a clear idea of the magnitude 
of the works, as well as of the expence at which 
they are carried on, the following items of monthly 
charges in different articles used in its operations, 
will, perhaps, be more satisfactory than the most la- 
boured description. The mine consumes (per month) 

In Coals, to the amount of - - - - 700/. 

Timber 300/. 

Cordage ------.-- 300/. 

Gunpowder for blasting - - - - 150/. 

Candles - - - . 200/. 

Iron ---------- 150/. 

Sundries ------ about 2500/. 

The whole business of this vast concern is under 
the superintendance and management of a purser, or 
book-keeper, at eight guineas a month ; a chief 
captain, at thirteen guineas per month \ eight inferior 



134 ] 



captains, at six guineas per month ; and an engineer. 
The miners provide tools, candles, and gunpowder, 
are paid no regular wages for their labour, but 
receive a certain proportion of the profits of the 
copper, when it is purchased by the merchants. The 
proprietors are at this time working five lodes or 
veins of ore. But however considerable the busi- 
ness of Dolcooth mine may be at present, still the 
season of her greatest prosperity is past ; (I use the 
feminine pronominal adjeclive, as the Cornish men, 
with a gallantry peculiar to their country, have 
applied that gender to their most valuable posses- 
sions;) she has heretofore employed 2000 workmen, 
and cleared on an average 6000/. per month. But 
copper was then 180/. per ton; it is now 90/.! 
another pleasing instance of the blessed effects pro- 
duced on the commerce of a country by the war- 
system.* The largest sum ever cleared by her 
monthly produce, in the term of forty-five years, 
during which she has been worked, was 7040/. 

We could not quit Dolcooth mine without ex- 
pressing the most grateful acknowledgments to the 
son of the chief captain, Mr. Rule, who led us 
through her extensive works, explained their pro- 

* Since writing the above, I understand that the price of 
copper has again risen to 110/. per ton. 



cesses, and afterwards gave us the clearest ideas of 
their subterraneous geography, by several admirable 
plans and sections of it, executed by himself. When 
we regarded these scientific delineations, the produc- 
tions of an untaught youth, abnormis sapiens, and 
saw that his mechanical powers were accompanied 
with good taste, and fine sense, rendered still more 
amiable by native courtesy and unassuming modesty, 
we could not but lament that so much genius and 
worth should be damnati ad metalla ; that they were 
not fostered by patronage, or brought into a sphere 
better calculated for their cultivation, expansion, and 
perfection, than the mining county of Cornwall. 

As our share of entertainment had been so large 
in the former part of the day, we had no right to 
complain of the dreariness of our afternoon's ride, 
which led us for ten miles through a country as 
barren of interesting objects, with the exception of 
some mines to the right and left, as any part of 
Cornwall. A busy scene of commercial bustle, 
however, occurred at Phillack and Heyl; and 
the church of the former village, seen across its 
creek, nestling itself in trees, and accompanied with 
a few cottages, recalled the associations connected 
with the picturesque. This quiet scene was agree- 
ably opposed by the animation of the creek, which 
contained a pretty considerable fleet of trading ships 



C 136 ] 

from Bristol and Wales, which bring iron and coal 
for the mines, and lime-stones for flux, and load 
back with copper ; as many of the proprietors find 
it less expensive to export the ore to Wales for 
smelting, than to manufacture it on the spot. This, 
however, is not the case with ail the ore ; a part of 
which is smelted at Heyl, and then rolled into flat 
sheets at the pounding-houses, about three miles to 
the southward of this place. The processes of 
roasting and refining the ore at Heyl, during which 
it passes through six or seven furnaces, are highly 
interesting ; but the pleasure arising from a sight so 
curious to those who are not familiar with it, is 
greatly damped by the appearance of the workmen 
engaged in it. Nothing indeed can be more shock- 
ing than this scene, as an humane and enlightened 
Tourist has observed.* " So dreadfully deleterious 
" are the fumes of arsenic constantly impregnating 
" the air of these places, and so profuse is the per- 
" spiration occasioned by the heat of the furnaces, 
66 that those who have been employed at them but 
Cf a few months become most emaciated figures, and 
" in the course of a few years are generally laid in 
" their graves. Some of the poor wretches who 
" were lading the liquid metal from the furnaces to 

* Maton, vol. i. p. 233. 



[ 137 ] 

" the moulds, looked more like walking corpses than 
" living beings. How melancholy a circumstance 
u to reflect upon, and yet to how few does it occur 
" that in preparing the materials of those numerous 
" utensils which we are taught to consider as indis- 
" pensable in our kitchens, several of our fellow 
" creatures are daily deprived of the greatest bless- 
" ing of life, and too seldom obtain relief but in. 
" losing life itself ! " 

Having obtained very particular directions, and 
collected all our caution, for both are necessary in 
this passage, we crossed Heyl river over its sands, 
which, when the tide is our, are left bare for a few 
hours; not indeed without some little apprehen- 
sion, as many instances are remembered of travellers 
having been entrapped by these treacherous Syrtes, 
and reduced to great danger, if not entirely suffo- 
cated, before they could be extricated from them; 
These unpleasant considerations however werequickiy 
dissipated by the beauty of the view at Lelant, which 
embraced the mouth of Heyl river ; the busy picture 
of Phillack creek, and the deep and capacious bay of 
St. Ives, formed by Godrevy head and island to the 
east, and the black promontory which rises over St. 
Ives, to the west. A view of the same kind, but more 
diversified, occurred again at Tregenna, the seat of 
*— » Stephens, esq; which crowns the summit of a 



[ 138 ] 

hill half a mile from St. Ives. The house is modern, 
and built in imitation of a castle. Though this 
stile of archite&ure may in general be pronounced 
as little less than absurd when adopted in modern 
mansions, yet in the case of Tregenna, we allowed 
that it was justified by its situation. Its appearance 
from the Channel must be formidable ; and might 
possibly assise in deterring an enemy from attempt- 
ing to land on an exposed coast, by holding out 
the semblance of defensive strength, which in fa& it 
does not possess. Independently, however, of this 
mock fortress, St. Ives has a slight protection in its; 
battery, consisting of twelve pieces of ordnance, 
placed on the promontory to the north-east of the 
town ; from which it is separated by a sandy isthmus. 
This is a fine abrupt steep, ribbed with romantic 
rocks, against which the waves dash with prodigi- 
ous fury when the wind is to the northward.* A 
strong gale blew from that quarter when we 
visited it, and threw a -terrible sea into the harbour. 
In general, we were informed, this noble basin was 
considered as very safe anchorage, though storms 
have occurred which covered its surface with wrecks. 
On the 14th day of the preceding November, a 



* It has also a beacon, and a small chapel dedicated to St 
Michael, a sea-mark, kept in repair by the Corporation. 






[ m ] 

melancholy scene of this kind had been exhibited to 
the inhabitants of St. Ives ; when three vessels 
were thrown upon the rocks of the harbour- before 
their eyes, totally destroyed, and the greater part 
of their crews swallowed up. The affe&ing sight 
made its proper impression on some of the specta- 
tors, who immediately endeavoured to raise a sub- 
scription for building and maintaining a life-boat, 
to prevent in future the most dreadful conse- 
quences of such shipwrecks, the loss of the unhappy- 
seamen ; but so insensible were the merchants of 
the place to the dangers and sufferings of the hardy 
race who fill their coffers, that the philanthropic 
attempt was frustrated by the impossibility of raising 
the poor pittance required for the purpose ! As we 
had this information from a merchant of St. Ives, 
I take it for granted that it is correct. Should it 
not be so, I must crave pardon of its affluent inha- 
bitants for a representation so disgraceful to their 
feelings. The town is large but irregular -, inter- 
sected by narrow streets which run in the most 
intricate and capricious directions. It is said by 
wild tradition to have received its name from St. 
Ivo, a Persian bishop, who came hither from 
Ireland, and converted its Pagan inhabitants. St. 
Leonard also was a patron of the town, at the north 
end of which was a chapel dedicated to him, where 



[ 140 ] 

prayers were formerly read to the fishermen before 
they went to sea, to beg success on their under- 
taking, by a friar who was stationary here. The 
congregations are said to have paid him for his trou- 
ble, with a part of their fish, when they returned. 
The form appeared to us to be even now kept 
up by a poor fanatic, whom we found addressing 
this incorrigible race of men upon the Quay. His 
congregation, however, did not appear to be very 
attentive to him, nor could we wonder at his elo- 
quence being thrown away upon them, when we 
learnt that he was generally drank , and, at his inter- 
vals of inebriety, always mad. 

The trade of Sr. Ives was, and I hope will be 
again, very considerable. Coals from Wales, salt 
from Liverpool, and wares from Bristol, were its 
chief imports; for which it exported an immense 
quantity of pilchards. Till of late years the bay 
was remarkable for the plenty of this fish caught 
in it ; but owing to some unknown, though 
doubtless powerful cause, few pilchards have been 
taken here latterly. Busy preparations, however, 
continue to be made every year for the fishery, in 
the hope that they may again visit the shore; and a 
man is stationed in a little cottage on an elevation at 
the bottom of the bay to look out for and give 
notice of the approach of a shoal of pilchards, which 



t W ] 

may always be determined by the red appearance 
they diffuse over the surface of the water from the 
hue of their fins. It is not, however, merely as an 
article of trade (box. the pilchards are important to the 
inhabitants of St. Ives ; they constitute the chief arti- 
cle of the food of the lower orders of its inhabitants, 
who suffer much from the scarcity of this essential 
part of their diet. Do not suppose, however, that 
I mean to assert their bill of fare should he 
confined to pilchards alone. No : the inhabitants 
of Cornwall are ingenious cooks, and convert many 
things into viands, which less ceconomical people 
would waste or disregard. As a proof of this, take 
the following anecdote which occurred here a few 
months since, and was told us by an authority that 
we could not resist. 

The Cornish people, you know, are remarkably 
fond of pies ; indeed they have a proverb expres- 
sive of this partiality, for it is said, " if a Cornish 
" man were to catch the Devil ^ he would put him in 
" a pie " A Cockney traveller, who had a mind to 
see the world, strayed down as far as St. Ives in his 
tour. He entered a public-house there in the even- 
ing, and called for supper. " Have you any beef 
" for a steak ?" c No!' " Any veal for a cutlet ? " 
'No!' "Any mutton for a chop?" 4 No! 5 
"What, no meat?" < No! an please your 



[ 142 ] 

6 honour, except a nice lammy-pie, which was 

* baked to-day.* The traveller, ravenous as the 
grave, licked his lips at the prospect of so nice a 
thing as a cold Iamb-pie, and ordered it up. Hun- 
ger was his sauce; he ate heartily, and relished his 
meal exceedingly. — He passed the night in horrors, 
but had no idea they arose from the indigestible 
quality of his supper till the next morning, when 
he was about to mount his horse: c Well, sir,' 
said the ostler, seeing he was a stranger, ' how 

* did you like mistress's lammy-pie last night?* 
" Excellent," replied he; " 'twas the best lamb I 
* c ever tasted." c Lord love ye,' returned John, 

* it was not that: lammy pie is not made of lamb* 
" Why, what the devil was it then?". exclaimed the 
horrified traveller. c Why, our poor Kiddy, to be 

* sure,' returned the other, c who died yesterday 
€ of the sbaW* 

I am, dear Sir, 

Your's sincerely, 

R. W. 



* A cutaneous disorder to which kids are liable. 




St. Michael's 
Mount 



Britifh Channel 



LETTER V. 



TO THE SAME. 



MY DEAR SIR, 



Marazion, Aug, 14, 



THE breadth of the county of Cornwall is very 
unequal. At its eastern extremity from Mor- 
winstow on the north, to Ramshead on the south, it 
measures upwards of forty-three miles. Five and 
twenty miles further to the west, from Padstow to 
Fowey, the distance is decreased to eighteen miles. 



[ 144 J 

From the bottom of Su Ives bay to Mount's bay* 
it is contracted to five miles ; and if we go to the 
head of Heyl river, we are within three miles of the 
waters of the British Channel. As it stretches 
further to the west, however, its diameter extends, 
and near the Land's-end, from Pendeen, on the 
north, to Trereen castle, on the south, the distance 
measures upwards of nine miles. Our course con- 
duced us over the narrowest part of the county, 
through a district fruitful only in vast blocks of gra- 
nite, which lay in wild disorder all around us> 
bounded in the distance by hills crowned with artifi- 
cial carnes,* or natural rocky acervations. As the 
mind cannot dwell long with pleasure on objects 
which have neither beauty to interest, nor variety 
to enliven it, we passed on through the region of 
barrenness and desolation, with some impatience for 
a change of scene; and were at length gratified 
from the summit of a rising ground with a picture 
as grand as it was diversified. The British Channel 



* Johnson says, (C a cairne is a heap of stones thrown 
et upon the grave of one eminent for dignity of birth, or 
" splendour of achievements." Hebrides. This may be the 
strict definition of the word: but in Cornwall it is applied 
more loosely; to Druidical altars, and heaps of stones, appro- 
priated to the purposes of worship. 



[ iis ] 

filled the distance in front : to the right and left the 
bold black coasts of Cornwall rose in gloomy ma- 
jesty : before us was spread Mount's Bay, deeply 
indenting the land; its gentle sheltered shores 
smiling with verdure and cultivation. Towards the 
north-eastern extremity of this recess, detached from 
every object that could vie with it in altitude, and of 
a chara&er entirely novel and unique, St. Michael's 
Mount, a mighty cone of rugged rock, crowned 
with Gothic battlements* towered up with superla- 
tive dignity. A stream of light thrown by the sun, 
who was just emerging from a thunder cloud, played 
at this moment upon its summit, and gave it so pro- 
minent a relief from the dark scene below, as to pro- 
duce an effect almost magical, and create the idea of 
an air-built citadel. We no longer wondered at the 
awe with which St. Michael's Mount was regarded 
by our forefathers, or the visions which superstition 
had attributed to it ; for it is an object well calculated 
to agitate the most sober imagination, and excite 
fancy to 

se travel beyond sense, 

" And pidture things unseen." 

We caught, however, only a distant passing 
glance at St. Michael's Mount, reserving it for a 
Liter inspection, and passed on to the maritime town 
of Penzance, which lies on the north-western 

L 



[ 146 ] 

extremity of its beautiful bay. The mildness of the 
climate of this place has rendered it for many years 
past the resort of that happier description of inva- 
lids on whom fortune has bestowed the power of 
seeking health in a more genial air than other parts 
of England afford; and it must be confessed that 
when migration is necessary and practicable, a more 
pleasing retreat cannot be found than Penzance. 
The town is regular and well-built j the immediate 
country rich and beautiful ; the view, which em- 
braces the whole of Mount's Bay, singular and 
grand 5 and the atmosphere so bland as to foster 
myrtles and other tender plants through all the vicis- 
situdes of a Cornish winter. But alas ! my friend, 
too many " frail memorials " in the church-yard, 
erected to the memory of those who had been cut 
off in the flower of youth, convinced us that even 
Penzance, with all its advantages, offered but a poor 
defence to the unfortunate victims upon whom that 
harpy, the consumption , had lain its vindictive talons* 
The admonition which a- church-yard affords, is 
unsuitable to no description of mortals 5 but I know 
not that a better lesson could be submitted to the 
gay and thoughtless young than the inscriptions 
which this contains, commemorative of those who 
have been hurried from life in its very spring, and 
numbered with the dead at that age, when presump* 



[147 ] 

tuous hope is most apt to revel in anticipation of 
future enjoyment. Amongst other monumental 
inscriptions in remembrance of early victims to the 
tomb, we found the following Scandinavian one, 
which I leave to your Runic lore to explain : 

I minde af 
NIELS. H. KIER, 

F6d j Wisbye j Holstein, 
j Aaret 1789. 
Dode j Penzans den 24 Martz I8O7. 
S'tor er Dog, O Gud, din made Eviger 
Din Kieiliged Doden kan os mi ej 
Skade men vi tor" of Legg ned, Rolig 
Udi dodens Fayn s'ove sodt j Jesu 
Navn jndtel Frydens morgenrode 
Va'kker of igien Fra dode. 

The exports of Penzance consist chiefly of pi!» 
chards and tin, innumerable blocks of which we 
saw ranged in the open street, ready to be shipped. 
Valuable as these masses are, their safety is suffi- 
ciently secured against the nightly plunderer by their 
individual weight, which generally amounts to 3001b. 
The market of Penzance is held twice a week, the 
less on Tuesday, and the greater on Thursday, and 
is well supplied with every article of life: fish for 
the greatest part of the year is almost a drug; pil- 
chards are now selling at one penny per dozen, * 



t 1*8 1 

We had promised ourselves much pleasure in sur- 
veying the celebrated Wherry Mine, about half a 
mile from Penzance, one of fhe most extraordinary 
proofs extant of man's disregard of danger in the 
pursuit of gain, but the works had been for some 
time discontinued, and we saw only the place where 
they were carried on, and the skeletons of the 
machinery used for that purpose. An elegant pen, 
however, has preserved an account of this interest- 
ing mine. " Imagine, 5 ' says Dr. Maton, " the 
" descent into a mine through the sea; the miners 
" working at the depth of seventeen fathoms only 
" below the waves ; the rod of a steam engine, 
<c extending from the shore to the shaft, a distance 
** of nearly 120 fathoms, and a great number of 
" men momentarily menaced with an inundation of 
" the sea, which continually drains in no small quan- 
" tity through the roof of the mine, and roars loud 
" enough to be distinctly heard in it ! The descent 
" is by means of a rope tied round the thighs ; and 
€C you are let down in a manner exactly the same as 
<c a bucket is into a well ; a. well indeed it is, for 
" the water is more than knee deep in many, parts 
" of the mine. The upper part of the shaft resem- 
" bles an immense iron chimney, elevated about 
" twelve feet above the level of the sea, and a nar- 
" row platform leads to it from the beach j close 



[ 149 ] 

" to this is the engine-shaft, through which the 
" water is brought up from below. Tin is the 
" principal produce of the Wherry Mine. The 
* inclination of the lode is towards the north, about 
" six feet in a fathom ; and its breadth is thought 
" to be no less than ten fathoms. The ore is 
" extremely rich."* 



* Maton's Observations, vol. i. p. 20Q. Hazardous as such 
a speculation as this seems to be, a mine under still more 
extraordinary circumstances was formerly worked in Corn- 
wall, in the parish of St. Just, of which Mr. Pryce in his 
Cornish Mineralogy gives us the following account. " The 
" mine of Huel-Cock, in the parish of St. Just, is wrought 
" eighty fathoms in length, under the sea, beyond low water 
" mark ; and the sea, in some places, is but three fathoms 
" over the back of the workings; insomuch, that the tinners 
" underneath hear the break, flux, ebb, and reflux of ever}' 
" wave, which, upon the beach overhead, may be said to have 
ec had the run of the Atlantic Ocean for many hundred 
" leagues ; and consequently are amazingly powerful and 
<( boisterous. They also hear the rumbling noise of every 
<c nodule and fragment of rock, which are continually rolling 
" upon the submarine stratum; which, altogether, make a 
ee kind of thundering roar, that will surprise and fearfully 
" engage the attention of the curious stranger. Add to this, 
" that several parts of the lode, which were richer than others, 
f< have been very indiscreetly hulked and worked within four 
" feet of the sea; whereby, in violent stormy weather, the 
1 c noise overhead has been so tremendous, that the workmen 
< ( have many times deserted their labour ur\der the greatest 



[ ISO ] 

We now directed our course to the most distant 
object of curiosity in Cornwall, the Land's End, 
the vast rocky promontory that first opposes the 
Atlantic Ocean on the west of England, and says to 
its proud waves, " hitherto shalt thou come, and no 
" further. 55 The road pursues a tolerably direct 
line, through a conntry where industry maintains a 
successful struggle with barrenness ; catching occa- 
sional views of neighbouring hills, crowned with 

t( fear, lest the sea might break in upon them. This proxi- 
t( mity of the sea over the workmen, without their being 
" incommoded by the salt water, is more wonderful than 
<e the account which Dr. Stukley gives of his descending 
<s into a coal-pit at "Whitehaven one hundred and fifty 
<( fathoms deep, till he came under the very bed of the ocean.* 
({ where ships were sailing over his head 5 being at that time 
f ' deeper under-ground by the perpendicular, than any part 
e< of the ocean between England and Ireland. In his case, 
« f there is a vast thickness of strata between the mine and 
f ' the sea 5 but at Huel-Cock they have only a crust be- 
f< tween, at most; and though in one place they have barely 
ec four feet of stratum to preserve them from the raging sea, 
" yet they have rarely more than a little dribble of salt 
" water, which they occasienally stop \yith oakum or clay, 
ie inserted in the crannies through which it issues. In a 
(( lead mine in Perran Zabuloe, formerly wrought under 
fC the sea, they were sometimes sensible of a capillary stream 
ee of saltwater, which they likewise prevented by the same 
(i means, whenever they perceived it." 



t 151 ] 

cairns, or girt with Saxon or Danish entrenchments. 
Of the latter there are no less] than eight within 
the distance of five miles round the town of Pen- 
zance ; each seen from the other, so as to preserve 
a constant communication by signals ; and forming 
together a sufficient record of the domination of 
these terrible enemies over the conquered Cornish, 
but at the same time bearing testimony to the valour 
of the subdued, who required such numerous and 
powerful checks to render them subservient to the 
yoke. Indeed it was not without the most despe- 
rate contests that the Cornish surrendered their 
liberties to the invaders, who at different times over- 
ran their country; and the road we were now taking 
afforded more than one spot which had been the 
scene of their patriotic struggles for the undisturbed 
enjoyment of the rights of freemen. It was near the 
Land's End that they made their final stand in the 
reign of Athelstan, and were overthrown by that 
prince in a terrible battle, the theatre of which is 
still preserved in the name of Bolleit, (a place of 
slaughter,) the court-house of a hundred a little to 
the southward of the road to the Land's End. . A 
very different character happily marked the country 
as we now passed through it : all was stillness and 
peace: the fields were whitening to the harvest; 
and the few people employed in them were pu j 



I 152 ] 

suing their avocations in undisturbed industry. We 
could not help observing, however, that of these 
few by far the larger proportion were women, to. 
whom in these parts the agricultural work seems to 
be chiefly committed. Nor did we fail to remark, 
that notwithstanding the nature of the employment, 
the female sex exhibited more of that softness and 
roundness of external form which characterize it 
throughout the world, than can be discovered in the 
lower classes of women in more inland parts of the 
kingdom. We had, indeed, been frequently struck 
by the beauty and freshness of the Cornish fair 
before, but their figure seemed to improve as we 
approached the western boundaries of their county. 
A peculiar smoothness in the texture of their skin, 
its delicacy and healthy colour, were too obvious 
not to attract our attention ; nor could we at all 
account for such appearances in women exposed to 
the external air so much, and condemned to such 
homely fare as this hardy race are, till we under- 
stood from an intelligent friend that they arose from 
the oily nature of their common diet, which con- 
sists chiefly of pilchards. He confirmed his re- 
mark by assuring us, that he had seen the same 
effecls produced by the same mode of living in dif- 
ferent parts of the world ; and that on the penin- 
sula of India in particular they were strikingly 



[ 153 ] 

observable in the people who inhabited the sea 
coast of Malabar, where a similar fish diet occa- 
sioned the like plumpness of form, and delicacy of 
the external cuticle. Rank as the pilchard may 
be esteemed by those who are unaccustomed to eat 
It, yet throughout Cornwall it is considered as the 
greatest delicacy; and happy is it that taste goes 
hand in hand with necessity in this instance, for I 
know not what would become of the lower classes 
«f the people here, if they turned with disgust from 
an article which constitutes their chief support. It 
is gratifying to observe how they enjoy the only 
dish on which they can depend with any certainty 
for a sufficient meal ; and though the fastidious 
epicure might shrink back with some abhorrence 
from a Cornish peasant's table, which rarely exhi- 
bits more than a dish of pilchards chopt up with 
raw onions and salt, diluted with cold water, eaten 
with the fingers, and accompanied with barley 
or oaten cakes ; yet I confess we never contem- 
plated these honest people round their board, blest 
with a good appetite, and contented with what they 
had, without catching the infe&ion of hunger,- 
and being willing to partake of their humble fare. 
As the pilchard forms the most important article 
of the food of the "Cornish lower classes, and as it 
is a migratory fish, continuing on the coast only 



[ 154 ] 

for a few summer months, it is an obje& with 
the cottagers to secure,' during this season, a suffi- 
cient quantity of pilchards for their winter consump- 
tion, when they are absent from the coast. For 
this purpose, each cottager (on an average) lays by 
about iooo fish, which are salted, and either packed 
together, or hung up separately. The quantity of 
salt necessary for this process is about seven pounds 
to the hundred fish, which, till the late rise on the 
duty of that article, might be procured at "three- 
half-pence per pound; and the whole stock cured at 
an expence of 8j. 9 d. But tempora mutantur; salt 
is now increased to ^d. per pound, and 1000 fish 
cannot be cured under 1/. y, 4^. a sum of ter- 
rifying, if not of unattainable magnitude to a man 
who only gets six or at the most seven shillings 
for his weekly labour, which is the usual rate 
of wages for a peasant about the Land's End. 
Perhaps the ingenuity or malignity of man never 
suggested an impost so oppressive to the lower 
classes, particularly of the county we are at present 
interested in, as this unnatural addition to the 
duty upon one of the most necessary articles of 
life. Indeed we found the peasantry and fisher- 
men sufficiently sensible of the burthen, and we 
blessed God, that we were not the financiers 
who had invented an imposition that excited those 



[ 155 ] 

murmurs, not loud but deep, which met our ear, 
on this account, wherever we went. 

The nakedness of the country, completely bare of 
wood, and the stone fences which bounded the road 
on either side, evinced our near approach to the 
western extremity of the kingdom. That we might 
not miss the obje£t of our ride, the celebrated pro- 
montory of Bolereum, W — shouted to some 
people who were working in a barn, for directions. 
In a moment a female labourer appeared at the door, 
and civilly enquired what we would have. She 
appeared to be a healthy damsel of twenty, with a 
form and face not easily to be matched for sym- 
mety and beauty by girls of the highest and most 
favoured classes. " Can you procure us a guide to 
" the Land's End?" said W — . 4 Yes, sir; my 
< husband will conduct you there/ " What, you 
" are married then ? Have you any children ?" 
i Yes, Sir,' replied the fair one, c eight ? and flap- 
ping over the gate with the nimbleness of a deer, 
was in an instant out of sight. She returned with 
the same expedition, followed by her spouse, a fish- 
erman ; and I think I never saw a human figure that 
gave me such an idea of a being completely unincum- 
bered by the fetters of flesh. He appeared to be all 
sinew ; scarcely touched the ground as he walked, 
was agile as a greyhound, and elastic as a bell- 



[ 156 3 

spring. We congratulated ourselves that we were 
equestrians ; for it would have been impossible for 
us to have kept pace with this meteor of a man, had 
we accompanied him on foot. Under the direction 
of such a guide we were not long in reaching Sen- 
nar-church Town, which lay at the distance of a 
mile from the place where we picked him up. This 
little group of houses, which, though dignified with 
the name of a town, is only a small hamlet, affords 
an excellent inn, where the traveller usually leaves 
his horse or carriage. Its situation is sufficiently 
described by the inscriptions on its signj that on 
the east being " the last house in England," and on 
the west, " the first house in England." We found 
it fitted up with every convenience ; and affording 
every accommodation to render it a good head- 
quarters for those who may be induced by the 
curiosities of the district to spend a few days 
amongst them. The distance from hence to the 
Land's End is about a mile ; partly over an open 
common, sprinkled with a few bushes, and staring 
masses of stone, the spontaneous production of the 
soil ; and commanding an uninterrupted view of 
the Atlantic ocean. The ruggedness of the coast 
that presented itself to the right, prepared us for the 
tremendous rocky scene which lay beneath our eye 
when we reached the point that terminates England 



[ 157 ] 

to the west. We had travelled many weary miles 
to gain this most distant objeft of our journey, but 
we confessed that its novel and wonderful charac- 
ter amply repaid us for all our trouble. It would 
be difficult, indeed, for fancy to sketch a more sub- 
lime picture of rocky scenery than that which we 
now contemplated. The promontory, thrusting 
itself forward into the Atlantic in a wedge-like form, 
towers above its roaring waves in abrupt majesty, to 
the height of 250 feet ; defended against the in- 
conceivable fury of the vast mass of waters that 
break upon it, by its immoveable ribs of granite 
which rise on every side in every form. The dark 
colour of the rocks, the singularity of their shapes, 
the wildness of their groups, and the absolute perpen- 
dicularity of their descent, combined with the eternal 
roar of the waves below, and the incessant whistling 
of the wind above, excited in the mind an emotion 
of terrific admiration that we had never before ex- 
perienced. It seemed almost to unsettle the under- 
standing; and gave us some idea of the nature of 
that feeling of desperation said by Macaulay to be 
produced on the imagination of strangers on visiting 
the immense south-western promontory of St. Kilda, 
who are so overpowered with the awfulness of a 
precipice of 3000 feet in depth, that they would 
rush mechanically to its brink, were they not pre- 



[ 158 ] 

vented by the two guides who accompany each tra« 
veller to this object of terrible curiosity. We 
trusted ourselves on the extreme rock of the Land's 
End only a sufficient time to catch a view of the 
unbounded scene which it unfolds. An iron coast 
formed the skreen to the right, closed by a project- 
ing rocky promontory, called Cape Cornwall, 
sheltering from the north-easterly blast the capacious 
basin of Whitesand Bay. Another abrupt eminence 
shooting itself into the ocean, called Peden-maen-due 
Point, attracted our attention in the same direction, 
beset with frowning rocks that interdicted all ap- 
proach to it by sea. Afar off in front we discerned, 
or imagined we discerned, (for fancy, you know, is 
at times an excellent help-mate to inclination,) the 
celebrated Cassiterides, or Scilly Isles ; and more 
immediately before us was the long ships, a range of 
of rocks, the terrible scene of many a disastrous 
wreck. To the left another horrid mass of granite 
called the armed knight, whitened by breakers, 
heightened the 'idea of dangers to which mariners 
are exposed in these tempestuous seas. Beyond this 
all was ocean. The frequency of shipwreck on this 
dangerous projecting coast, is too well known \ and 
many a tale of horror, fresh in the memory of the 
older inhabitants of the spot, evinced the necessity 
of taking some measures for guarding against the 



C 159 ] 

evil. Accordingly, about fourteen years since, a 
light-house was constructed for the purpose, on the 
central rock of the long ships ; and so well has it 
answered the end of its erection, that since its con- 
struction only one vessel has perished upon the 
ledge; an accident that happened from the master 
of it missing his reckoning, and mistaking the long" 
ships for the Edystone. Three men belong to the 
establishment; two of whom inhabit it; the third 
is stationed at St. Just, to relieve one of the two 
every month; so that by this alternation every one 
of them has, in his turn, a continued residence of 
two months on the long-ship rocks. It frequently 
happens, however, that this alternate relief is inter- 
rupted ; and a much longer time elapses without any 
intercourse with the main land, than the customary 
time of change. In bad weather four months have 
passed, and no other communication been kept up 
between the light-house and St. Just, than that of 
signals. To a residence under these circumstances, 
in a very temple of the winds, rocked by the thunders 
and the blast, and oftentimes buried in the waves, 
which climb its side, and discharge their billows on 
its head, there are men willing to condemn them- 
selves, for the poor pittance of 30/. per annum, 
and King's provisions. They have here 5 however, 
one opportunity of acquiring a good habit, or as 



t 160 J 

is too generally the case, of breaking through a 
bad one, which a residence on the shore would not 
afford them ; for by an excellent regulation, rigidly 
enforced, to prevent fire or negligence, no liquor 
stronger than water, is allowed to be introduced into 
the building. A distressing circumstance is related 
to have taken place last year at long-ships light- 
house. In calm weather the tenants of it are enabled 
to diversify their meal, by catching fish from the 
rock on which they dwell. One of the inmates 
had been successful in his sport, and whilst the 
other was busied in the building, had retired to the 
point of a precipice to clean his prey. His compa- 
nion waited for his return till the hour of dinner, and 
then, surprised at his delay, went out to seek him. 
He called loudly and repeatedly on his name, but no 
answer was returned. He looked round the rock, 
but no human form was visible* Going at length 
to the fatal point, he cast his eye into the chasm, 
and beheld his friend stretched out a mutilated 
corpse upon the ragged crags below. It would not 
be easy to conceive the feelings of the survivor on 
such a sight. Indeed it was a situation that em- 
braced many peculiar circumstances of distress; a 
catastrophe, die shock of which must have been 
indescribably heightened by the convi&ion of the 
total and horrible solitude, to which the companion. 



[ 161 ] 

of the deceased found himself so unexpectedly 
reduced. As soon as he was sufficiently recollected 
to give notice of the event, he hoisted a signal, and 
received assistance from St. Just. 

Although a sweep of ocean, twenty-seven miles in 
breadth, separate at present the Land's End from 
the Scilly Islands, there can yet be little doubt of 
their having been heretofore united to each other 
by the main land. The records of history, indeed, 
do not rise so high as the sera when this disjunction 
was first effected ; but we have documents yet 
remaining which prove to us that this strait must 
have been considerably widened, and the number of 
the Scilly Islands greatly increased, within the last 
sixteen or seventeen centuries, by the waters of 
the Atlantic (receding probably from the coast of 
America) pressing towards this coast of Britain, 
accumulating upon Bolerium, and overwhelming 
part of the western shores of Cornwall, 

Strabo expressly tells us that the Cassiterides, (so 
called from the Greek name of tln % there produced) 
were in his time only ten in number, whereas now 
they are divided into a hundred and forty rocky 
islets.* Solinus also makes mention of a large and 



* A/ ds xxcrar:tt^^shx» pe* net, xuvra. %'eyyvs «XA*Aft». iii.265. 
M 



L 162 ] 

respectable island, called Silura, evidently the Scilly 
of present times, lying on the Damnonian or Cor- 
nish coast, and separated from the main land by a 
strait turbulent and dangerous, a character which 
sufficiently marks the compression of its waters.* 
And William of Worcester, an author of our own 
•ountry, thirteen centuries after Solinus, states with 
a degree of positive exactness, stamping authenticity 
upon his recital, that between Mount's Bay and the 
Scilly Islands there had been woods,and meadows, and 
arable lands, and 140 parish churches, which before 



* He gives this account of the island and its inhabitants: 
■ f Siluram quoque insulam ab ora quam gens Britanna Dum- 
ts nonii tenent, turbidum fretura distinguit, cujus homines 

• etiamnum custodiunt morem vetustum; nummum refu- 

• tant; dant reset accipiunt ; mutationibus necessaria potius 
ts quam pretiis parant : deos percolunt ; scientiam futuro- 
•* rum pariter viri ac faeminae ostendnnt." — Sol. Poly. Hist, 
rap. xxii. c. It may be urged that Solinus only speaks of 
one island, whereas Strabo mentions ten. But this may be 
considered as a xxr s^o^r,v expression; putting the most con- 
siderable for the whole 5 an opinion which is strengthened 
by a marginal reading in an ancient manuscript, mentioned 
by Salmasius, that has Sit Unas quoque iiuvlas, for Siluram 
quo que iwsulam.-— Vide Salmas. Plinian* Excercitat. torn, k 
p. 245, 



[ 163 ] 

his time were submerged by the ocean.* Uninter- 
rupted tradition since this period, which subsists to 
the present day, vigorous and particular, authenti- 
cates his account, and leaves no doubt upon the 
mind, that a vast tract of land which stretched 
anciently from the eastern shore of Mount's Bay to 
the north-western rock of Scilly, (with the exception 
of the narrow strait flowing between the Long-ships 
and Land's End,) has, since the age of Strabo and 
Solinus, and previous to that of William of Wor- 
cester, been overwhelmed and usurped by the waves 
of the sea.f Robbed of their population and riches 
by this dreadful inundation, which seems to have 
happened in the tenth century, exposed afterwards to 
the depredations of mariners of all countries, who, 
when navigation became more universal, plundered 
these defenceless isles at their will, they dwindled 



* «* Fuerunt tarn boscus quarn prata, et terra arabilis inter 
*' dictum Montem et Insulas Syllae, et fuerunt 140 ecclesise 
" parochiales inter istum Montem et Sylly submersae."— 
Worcester, 102. 

f The depth of the water at the Land's End is about 11 
fathoms j at the Long-ships 8; to the north of them 20 j to 
the south 30 ; and 25, 20, and 15 fathoms between them 
and the north-west of Scilly. The shallowest water occurs 
m the mid space between Cornwall and the isles. 

M 2 



[ 164 ] 

into such insignificance, that in the reigti of Eliza- 
beth a grant was made of the whole of them,- to a 
Cornish gentleman, for a quit-rent of 10/. per annum. 
With him, however, their consideration again 
revived. He carried a colony of English to his 
islands, and secured them from molestation by 
building two forts, one on Trescaw, and another 
on St. Mary's. Since this time they have been gra- 
dually increasing in opulence and population. They 
have some trade ; three resident clergymen amongst 
them ; and maintain a communication with the main 
land constantly, except when interrupted by very bad 
weather, by means of a packet-boat, supported by 
the General Post- Office, which carries thither letters 
and passengers every week from Penzance. 

But to return from our insular researches to nearer 
objects, and modern adventures. I have already ob- 
served, that the promontory of the Land's End thrusts 
itself into the waves in a wedge-like form, gradually 
tapering towards a point, till it meets the waves. 
About two hundred yards before it terminates, a 
sudden depression takes place in its surface, which 
continues falling with a pretty rapid descent for 
some distance. The southern side of this portion 
of the promontory is absolutely perpendicular ; its 
base covered with masses of rock, which at high 
tides and in stormy weather are mingled with the 



t 165 ] 

the surf. Its greatest width does not exceed 50 
yards; and its elevation above the water cannot be 
less than 250 feet. Common prudence would seem 
to interdift an approach to the point over such a 
dangerous passage as this, by any other mode than 
that of walking. There are heroes, however, who 
soar above all the suggestions of this sage adviser in 
their pursuit of fame, and scorn the road of glory 
trodden by the vulgar foot. Empedocles plunged 
into the centre of Mount JEtna, that he might 
acquire the reputation of being immortal ; 

..„„---« Deus immortalis haberi 

ff Dumputat Empedocles, ardentem frigidus ^Etnam, 

" Insiluit :" 

and Herostratus fired the Temple of Ephesus, to 
obtain a name that should last for ever. The same 
rash ambition seems to have influenced a traveller 
who visited the Land's End during the course of 
the last year ; and though no fatal effecls were the 
consequences of his imprudence, yet its result was 
such as I hope will caution every future visiter of 
the place against any similar display of false courage. 
He was mounted on a valuable spirited horse, and had 
proceeded to the declivity just mentioned, though 
the animal before he reached it had evinced every 
mark of astonishment at the novelty of the scene 



f 166 | 

before him. Here the guide requested him to dis- 
mount, but in vain ; the glory of the achievement of 
reaching the last rock on horseback preponderated 
over every representation of danger, and on he rode. 
With some difficulty he prevailed on his horse to 
carry him to the point ; but the mingled roar of the 
wind and waves, and the horrid forms of the rocks, 
which lift their craggy heads on all sides, so terrified 
the beast that he became unmanageable. He 
snorted, plunged, reared, and exhibited every symp- 
tom of ungovernable fear. The gentleman, con- 
vinced too late of his rashness and folly, turned him 
to the main land, and spurred him forwards. Insen- 
sible, however, to every thing but the impression of 
dread, the animal curvetted to the brink of the pre- 
cipice. The fate of the rider hung upon a moment. 
He threw himself with desperation on the ground 
from the back of his horse, which the next instan t 
plunged down the precipice, and was dashed to atoms. 
The guides afterwards recovered the bridle and 
saddle by descending on the northern side of the 
point, and passing through a perforation at the bot- 
tom, to the rocks on which the animal had fallen. 
The only particulars we could learn of his rider, 
were, that he was taken up more dead than alive, 
with terror, and that his nervous system had been 



[ 167 ] 

so shaken by the adventure, as still to remain in 
the most shattered state. 

Before I quit the Land's End it may be amusing 
to mention a particular of its natural history, which 
I think throws some light on the much-disputed sub- 
ject of the migration of English birds. You are 
aware, perhaps, that a controversy has long subsisted 
between ornithologists, whether those birds which 
are seen amongst us at particular seasons, remain in 
the kingdom concealed in undiscoverable recesses, 
during the period of their disappearance, or whether 
they are actually absent from our climate at this 
time, and resident in countries more congenial to 
their nature and instincts. In this list of migratory 
birds, (as they are called, ) the Woodcock, that im- 
portant article of luxury and sport, is enumerated. 
Mr. Daines Barrington, amongst others, is a strenu- 
ous opponent to the do&rine of this species of 
bird making a periodical passage from England to 
other countries ; contending that it builds its nests, 
and breeds amongst us, in the same manner as other 
indigenous British birds ; and is invisible during the 
summer, only, from the caution of its habits, and 
privacy of its retreats* in that season. He further 
makes the assertion, with respect to migratory birds 
in general, that there is no well-attested instance of 
such a migration actually taking place, which he 



[ 168 ] 

considers as a convincing negative proof of the 
falsehood of that opinion. What the value of 
those examples of migration may be, which are 
adduced by Willoughby, Buffon, Adanson, &c. I 
know not, as I have never paid any attention to the 
controversy; but I will venture to assert, that had 
Mr. Daines Barrington made the question with 
respect to woodcocks a, subject of his enquiry when 
he was in Cornwall, he would have learned a fact at 
the Land's End, which must have at once settled his 
scepticism on this particular head. He would here 
have been told by every peasant and fisherman, that 
the annual periodical arrival of the woodcocks from 
the Atlantic, at the close of the year, is as naturally 
expected, and as surely takes place, as the return 
of winter after the autumn ; and that the time of 
their visit is directed by so certain an instinct, that 
the inhabitants can tell by the temperature of the 
air, the week, if not the day, on which they will 
arrive. He would have been convinced that migra„ 
tion is the general habit of the species, and not the 
wayward act of an individual bird, by the prodi- 
gious flocks of them which reach the shore at the 
same time; and no doubt would have remained on 
his mind of their coming from afar, when he had 
been told that after their arrival, they might for a 
day or two be easily knocked down, or caught by 



[ 169 J 

dogs, from the extreme exhaustion induced by their 
flight. A short respite, indeed, amongst the bushes 
and stones of the Land's End again invigorates 
and enables them to take an inland course ; but till 
they are thus recruited, they are an easy prey, and 
produce no mean profit to those who live in the 
neighbourhood of this place of their first landing in 
England. We were told at Truro, as a proof of 
the definite time of their arrival, that a gentleman 
there had sent to the Land's End for several brace 
to be forwarded to him, for a particular occasion. 
His correspondent acquainted him in answer that no 
woodcocks had yet arrived, but that on the third 
day from his writing, if the weather continued as it 
then was, there would be plenty. The state of the 
atmosphere remained unchanged, the visiters came 
as it was asserted they would, and the gentleman 
received the number of birds he had ordered. 
From all these circumstances we concluded that 
woodcocks were actually migratory birds; that they 
retire from England when the temperature of our 
climate becomes too warm for them, take their flight 
to more northerly regions, and return to our coast 
as soon as the cold of those higher latitudes renders 
it unpleasant or unsafe for them to remain in them. 

The celebrated Logan Stone at the Land's End 
lies about four miles to the southward of the pro- 



[ 170 1 

montory, over a wild and rocky cliff, presenting 
nothing to the eye but its rough surface, an un- 
bounded view of the ocean, and some fearful rocks 
sprinkled through its nearer extent. Amongst these 
the most remarkable, and most tremendous, if we 
judge from its name, is the Wolf. Of late years 
an attempt was made to divest it of some of its 
horrors, by creeling upon its summit a huge copper 
figure of a wolf ; which, being so constructed 
as to produce a stupendous noise by the current 
of wind rushing through it, and being hung with 
bells to be agitated and rung by the blast, should 
give notice to mariners in darkness or hazy weather 
of their approach to this dangerous rock. The 
philanthropic design, however, proved to be abor- 
tive from the violence of the tides and other circum- 
stances, and after much expence, labour, and danger, 
encountered by the proprietor and workmen, was at 
length relinquished. The Logan Stone is well 
described by Dr. Borlase y for what it was in his 
time it still continues to be. It is a feature of 
Nature's architecture, and defies all vicissitudes. 
" In the parish of St. Levin, Cornwall," says he* 
" there is a promontory called Castle Treryn. This 
" cape consists of three distinct groups of rocks. 
" On the western side of the middle group, near 
" the top, lies a very large stone, so evenly poised 



[ 171 ] 

" that any hand may move it to and fro ; but the 
" extremities of its base are at such a distance from 
" each other, and so well secured by their nearness 
" to the stone which it stretches itself upon, that it 
" is morally impossible that any lever, or indeed 
" any force, (however applied in a mechanical way,) 
" can remove it from its present situation. It is 
" called the Logan Stone-* and at such a great 
" height from the ground, that no one who sees it, 
" can conceive that it has been lifted into the place 
" where we see it in. It is also much of the same 
" shape as the rocks which lie under it, and makes 
" a natural part of the crag on which it stands at 
" present, and to which it seems always to have 
" belonged."* No doubt is entertained that this 



* " Logan, in the Guidhelian British, signifies a pit or 
" hollow of the hand; and Leagan a high rock, and thence 
" I should think it most- reasonable to derive it, although 
" the Welsh word Kloguin, a great stone or rock, (see 
" Lluyd in Saxum,) comes very near it : but whether the 
" word Logan be thence derived, or may possibly be a cor- 
" ruption of the British Llygadtyn, in Welch signifying 
" bewitching, (forasmuch as the singular property of this 
" stone may seem the effect of witchcraft) I shall not take 
<K upon me to decide." — Borlase. 

t Borlase's History, 180. 



E 172 J 

and other natural wonders of a similar description, 
were applied by the Druids to superstitious pur- 
poses ; probably to increase their influence over 
the ignorant, or extract money from the rich. 
Toland considers them, with much probability, 
as instruments of priestcraft, the Druids keeping the 
secret of their easy mobility to themselves, and 
making the people believe that the priest alone could 
remove them, and that by a miracle \ " by which 
" pretended miracle, (says he,) they acquitted or 
" condemned the accused, and often brought crimi- 
" nals to confess, what could in no other way be 
" extorted from them." It is to this cunning appli- 
cation of them that Mason so nobly alludes in his 
Cara&acus, a poem in which he has made the most 
judicious as well as beautiful use of the imagery 
afforded him by the superstitions of Druidism. 

- - " Thither, youths, 

" Turn your astonish'd eyes ; behold yon huge 

" And unhewn sphere of living adamant, 

" Which, pois'd by magic, rests its central weight, 

" On yonder pointed rock: firm as it seems, 

i! Such is its strange and virtuous property, 

'* It moves obsequious to the gentlest touch 

" Of him whose breast is pure 5 but to a traitor, 

" Though ev'n a giant's prowess nerv'd his arm, 

" It stands as fix'd as Snowdon." 



[ 173 1 

The lofty tower of St. Burian's is a sufficient 
direction to this ancient village. Its church dedi- 
cated to St. Buriana, " an holy woman of Ireland," 
was built by Athelstan, in gratitude for that success 
which crowned his expedition to Scilly, and which 
he had implored in his way thither at the oratory of 
this female saint, that stood upon the same spot of 
ground on which he afterwards erected the church. 
It is a fabrick of great curiosity, having from the 
remoteness of its situation been little exposed to 
alteration, and may therefore be considered in all its 
essentials as in much the same state as when com- 
pleated by Athelstan. Many memorials of distant 
times and former usages occur both within and 
without it ; an ancient shallow coffin like a tomb, 
that once contained the remains of Clarice wife of 
Geoffrey de Bolleit, lord of this manor, in the time 
of Henry III. ; a series of old forms, for the accom- 
modation of the worshippers, which our ancestors 
were content to use in common, before refinement 
had introduced the invidious distinction of pews ; 
and two stone crosses, either of the Danish or Anglo- 
Saxon age. In addition to the other curiosities of 
St. Burien's church, we may mention the stalls of the 
dean and three prebendaries, (originally settled here 
by Athelstan,) 



[ 174 ] 

" Of monumental oak, and antique mould, 

u That long have stood the rage of conquering years 

" Inviolate}" 

and probably preserve the same materials and carv- 
ings which they exhibited in the days of the royal 
founder. This collegiate establishment still sub- 
sists, though in the shape of a wretched skeleton, 
divested of flesh and blood. For two of the pre- 
bends being absorbed into the deanery, and the 
third attached to the bishopric of Exeter, the parish 
is defrauded of all its rightful spiritual residents, 
whose duties are now performed by a stipendiary 
curate. So effectually have the pious intentions 
of Athelstan been enforced and perpetuated by his 
successors! 

From St. Burian to Penzance, including the two 
fishing-towns of Mousehole and Newlyn, is about 
eight miles ; a distance enlivened, for the most part, 
by a grand view of Mount's Bay, along whose 
western shore the road is carried. The inhabitants 
of the former town, both men and women, exhibit 
the finest specimens of Cornish strength and beauty. 
The broad and muscular outline of the male, and 
the luxuriant contour of the female form, here, evince 
that the climate, food, or employment of the people, 
(or perhaps all together,) are highly conducive to 
the maturation and perfection of the human figure. 



C m ] 

Having taken another and a final survey of Pen- 
zance, we crossed the sands to Marazion, being first 
prepared with directions not to venture too far 
down upon them ; which we might have otherwise 
been tempted to do, as the tide was very low, and 
presented a wide expanse of level surface to the eye, 
smooth as glass, and apparently compact and firm as 
a rock. We understood, however, that there was 
treachery concealed under this fair and specious 
appearance; that the sands were in some places, 
and at uncertain times, quick or loose, without 
adhesion or consolidation, and swallowed up what- 
ever pressed upon them. A melancholy confirm- 
ation of the truth of this representation had 
occurred only two cr three years ago. Two 
foreigners (I believe Frenchmen) had engaged a 
guide to conduct them over these deceitful sands on 
foot. The man preceded them with a pole, in 
order to try the solidity and consistence of the sand 
before they trod upon it, for the quicks (as they are 
called) are so continually shifting their situation, 
as to defy all the results of experience to settle their 
locality. The poor fellow proceeded with his usual 
caution, but not with his accustomed good fortune ; 
for while he was stooping forward with his pole 
to determine the safety of his course, the sa^ds 



t 176 ] 

suddenly sunk under his feet, and in one moment 
swallowed him up before the eyes of his astonished 
and terrified companions. 



I am , dear Sir, 

Your's sincerely, 

R. W. 





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**^ Lizard Point 





LETTER VI. 



TO THE SAME. 



MY DEAR SIR, 



Truro, Aug. \~* 



I 



T is not surprizing, that an object so remarkable 
in form, so conspicuous in situation, and so 
venerable for the superstitions which had attached 
to it for ages, as St. Michael's Mount, should 
have attracted the attention of the poet, and afforded 
some materials for the combinations of fancy. We 

N 



L 178 ] 

accordingly find both Spenser and Milton noticing 
this singular rock. The former, indeed, confines his 
use of St. Michael's Mount to little more than a 
slight mention of its consecration to a saint. 

f{ In evill howre thou hentst in hond 

" Thus holy hils to blame : 
" For sacred unto saints they stand, 

" And of them have their name. 
*' St. Michael's Mount v/ho does not knows 

" That wardes the western coast?" 

Milton, however, has converted it to a more noble 
purpose, and by a beautiful allusion to its legendary 
history, made it the basis of one of the finest passages 
in his Lycidas. 

" Or, whether to our moist vows denied 

" Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, 

(< Where the great vision of the guarded mount 

ce Looks tow'rd Namancos and Bayona's hold, 

" Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth, 

" And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth."* 



* I cannot resist inserting the late Mr.Warton's admirable 
explication of the above passage, which may be justly consi- 
dered as one of the finest specimens of illustrative criti- 
cism extant. " The whole of this passage," says he, " has 
ee never yet been explained or understood. That part of the 
t( coast of Cornwall called the Land's End., with its neigh- 



[ 179 ] 

As we approached St. Michael's Mount along the 
sands, we could not but acknowledge an influence 
upon our imagination that made us pardon the 



fC bourhood, is here intended, in which is the promontory 
ct of Bellerium, so named from Bellerus a Cornish giant. 
" And we are told by Camden, that this is the only part of 
'*' our island that looks directly towards Spain. So also 
iC Drayton, Polyolb. S. xxiii. voL iii. p. 1107. 

" Then Cornwall creepeth out into the westerne maine, 
" As, lying in her eye, she pointed still atSpaine. 

"" And Orosius, ' The second angle or point of Spain forms 
** c a cape, where Brigantia, a city of Galicia, rears a most 
<e * lofty watch-tower, of admirable construction, in full view 
" 'of Britain.' Hist. L. i. c. ii. fol. 5. a. edit. Paris. 1524. 
t( fol. Carew says of this situation, « Saint Michael's Mount 
" e looketh so aloft, that it brooketh no concurrent.' p. 154. 
" ut infor. But what is the meaning of ' the Great Vision 
ff ' of the Guarded Mount ? ' And of the line immediately 
*• following, ' Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with 
" f ruth?' I natter myself I have discovered Milton's original 
** and leading id&a. — Not far from the Land's End in Corn- 
<f wall, is a most romantic projection of rock, called Saint 
" Michael's Mount, into a harbour called Mount's Bay. It 
" gradually rises from a broad basis into a very steep and nar- 
" row, but craggy, elevation. Towards the sea, the declivity 
l: is almost perpendicular. At low-water it is accessible by 
" land : and not many years ago it was entirely joined with 
et the present shore, between which and the Mount there is a 

N2 



[ 180 ] 

errors of ignorance in peopling it with wizard forms, 
and involving its early history in witchery and won- 
der. Peculiar as it is in figure and situation, it must 



" rock called Chapel-Rock. Tradition, or rather superstition, 
<( reports, that it was anciently connected by a large tract of 
«• land, full of churches, with the isles of Scilly. On the 
" summit of St. Michael's Mount a monastery was founded 
" before the time of Edward the Confessor, now a seat of Sir 
*/ John Saint Aubyn. The church, refectory, and many of 
(C the apartments still remain. With this monastery was 
i( incorporated a strong fortress, regularly garrisoned : and in 
ft a patent of Henry IV. dated 1403, the monastery itself, 
" which was ordered to be repaired, is styled Fortalitium. 
t( Rym. Feed. viii. 102, 340, 341. A stone lantern, in one of 
" the angles of the tower of the church, is called St. Michael's 
tc Chair. But this is not the original St. Michael's Chair. 
" We are told by Carew, in his Survey of Cornwall, ' A little 
" ' without the castle [this fortress] there is a bad [dangerous] 
4 ' * seat in a craggy place, called St. Michael's Chaire, some- 
" e what daungerous for accesse, and therefore holy for the 
ff ■ adventure.' Edit. 1(502. p. 154. We learn from Caxton's 
" GoMen Legende, under the history of the Angel Michael, 
<f that c Th' apparacyon of this angell is manyfold. The fyrst 
f{ ( is when he appeared in mount of Gargan, &c.' Edit. 1493. 
*< fol. eclxxxii. a. William of Worcestre, who wrote his 
iC travels over England about 1490, says, in describing St. 
" Michael's Mount, there was an ' Apparlcio Sancti Michaelis 
" Mn monte Tumba antea vocato Le Hore Rok in the wodd.* 
" Itinerar. edit. Cantab. 1778. p. 102. The Hoar Rock in 



C 181 ] 

have made a striking impression on the warm fancies 
of untutored men, and naturally claimed from them 
a reverential and mysterious awe. We did not 



" the Wood is this Mount or Rock of St. Michael, anciently 
" covered with thick wood, as we learn from Drayton and 
«* Carew. There is still a tradition, that a vision of St. 
** Michael seated on this crag, or St. Michael's Chair, ap- 
" peared to some hermits : and that this circumstance occa- 
" sioned the foundation of the monastery dedicated to St. 
" Michael. And hence this place was long renowned for its 
" sanctity, and the object of frequent pilgrimages. Carew 
a quotes some old rhymes much to our purpose, p. 154. 
( * ut supr. 

,( Who knows not Mighel's Mount and chaire, 
" The pilgrim's holy vaunt? 

fe Nor should it be forgot, that this monastery was a cell to 
(t another on a St. Michael's Mount in Normandy, where was 

" also a vision of St. Michael. But to apply what has been 

" said to Milton. This Great Vision is the famous Appari- 
" tion of St. Michael, whom he with much sublimity of 
fl imagination supposes to be still throned on this lofty crag 
" of St. Michael's Mount in Cornwall, looking towards the 
t( Spanish coast. The Guarded Mount on which this Great 
" Vision appeared, is simply the fortified mount, implying the 
te fortress above-mentioned. And let us observe, that Mount 
" is the peculiar appropriated appellation of this promontory. 
te So in Daniel's Panegyricke on the King, st. 19. ' From 
Ci < Dover to the Mount.' With the sense and meaning of 
*' the line in question, is immediately connected that of the 



C 582 ] . 

doubt that it had been the scene of barbarous 
worship from the cera of the first peopling of 
Britain; and, long before it exhibited the follies 



il third line next following, which here I now for the first 
u time exhibit properly pointed : 

" Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth. 

f{ Here is an apostrophe to the Angel Michael, whom we have 
<e just seen seated on the Guarded Mount. ' O angel, look 
(e 'no longer seaward to Namancos andBayona's hold: rather 
'* f turn your eyes to another object. Look homeward or 
" e landward, look towards your own coast now, and view 
<( e with pity the corpse of the shipwrecked Lycidas floating 
" c thither.* But I will exhibit the three lines together 
" which form the context. Lycidas was lost on the seas 
u near the coast, 

" Where the great vision of the guarded mount 
" Looks tow'rds Namancos and Bayona's hold ; 
" Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth. 

" The Great Vision and the Angel are the same thing : and 
xe the verb look in both the two last verses has the same refe- 
<( rence. The poet could not mean to shift the aplication of 
(( look, within two lines. Moreover, if in the words Look 
" homeward angel now — the address is to Lycidas, a violent, 
fi and too sudden, an apostrophe takes place ; for in the very 
(< next line Lycidas is distinctly called the hapless youth. To 
" say nothing, that this new angel is a haples* youth, and to 
<f be wafted by dolphins. Thyer seems to suppose, that the 
<s meaning of the last line is, * You, O Lycidas, now an 
" < angel, look down from heaven, &c.' But how can this be 



[ 183 1 

of Papal superstition, had served the purposes of a 
a Canaanitish high place, and echoed to the terrible 
rites of Druidism. Before^ however, we could visit 



te said to look homeward ? And why is the shipwrecked per- 
<e son to melt with ruth? That meaning is certainly much 
" helped by placing a full point after surmise, v. 153. But a 
i( semicolon there,, as we have seen, is the point to the first 
" edition : and to shew how greatly such a punctuation 
f ascertains or illustrates our present interpretation, I will 
(C take the paragraph a few lines higher, with a short analy- 
<e sis. ' Let every flower be strewed on the hearse where 
" ' Lycidas lies, so to flatter ourselves for a moment with a 
ff ' notion that his corpse is present 5 and this, (ah me!) while 
(C ' the seas are wafting it here and there, whether beyond the 
(C ' Hebrides, or near the shores of Cornwall, &c.' " 

At the time I was writing this part of the present little 
work, the miscellaneous History of Cornwall, published by 
Mr. Polwhele, accidentally fell into my hands. It is enriched 
by a copious supplement from the pen of " the Historian of 
Manchester," including remarks on St. Michael's Mount, 
Penzance, the Land's End, and the Scilly Isles. In the course 
of these remarks Mr. Whitaker considers the passage above 
quoted from Milton's Lycidas, and, with very little regard to 
courtesy, accuses our great poet of ignorance, deficiency of 
learning, want of antiquarian and geographical knowledge, 
and confusion of ideas with respect to the subject in question 
The charge, I confess, excited my indignation 3 and I had 
prepared for vindication, when I saw by the Papers, that Mr. 
Whitaker was removed into that state,, where the interest ol 



[ IS* 1 

tliis venerable objeft, we had to examine a more 
modern one ; the town of Marazion, which stands 



all human controversies, as well as the ability of maintaining 
them, must for ever cease. Instead therefore of disturbing 
the ashes of the departed, I would rather pay that tribute of 
gratitude which is so justly due to the memory of a man 
^vhose writings afford the information and entertainment 
which Mr. Whitaker's confessedly do. His talents were 
of the first rate, though he occasionally dishonoured them, 
and diminished his respectahilty, by writing for such a 
Review as the Anti-Jacobin. The stream of his learning 
was wide, profound, and clear j though tinctured occa- 
sionally with an acrimonious impregnation, which rendered 
it less palatable than it otherwise would have been. His 
style is manly, nervous, and frequently splendid ; his accu- 
racy great ; and his industry unrivalled. He has enriched our 
history with new fa&s, cleared our antiquities from many 
obscurities, and unravelled numerous perplexities that hung 
around the records of ancient times. I may say, in short, 
that we should read his various productions with uninter- 
rupted satisfaction, as well as with increasing information, 
had he not sometiw.es unfortunately forgotten, that the realm 
of letters, though a republic, should always be characterized 
by courtesy; that Athens was the centre of politeness as well 
as learning; and that the olive-tree, the emblem of peace, 
was the favourite plant of the Goddess of Wisdom. " Olea 
" Minerva? symbolum est, cui haec arbor artium habita praeses; 
rc quae artes ad lucernam noctu lucubrando nimium quantum 
" crescunt in qua lucerna et oleum adhiberi soleL" — Aug, 
Jut. Dialog, in Aiitiq. 



t 185 ] 

en the shore, at the distance of half a mile from it. 
Not that this place is a child of yesterday, since its. 
history may be traced as high as the twelfth century, 
when it seems to have originated in a market, 
granted to the religious house upon the mount, to 
be hcid on the Thursday of every week. This 
establishment would of course quickly produce some 
habitations on the spot, which, as soon as they were 
erected, were denominated Marghas-gou, a name 
signifying the Thursday's market. Its present appel- 
lation seems to be of later date, and imposed by 
the Jews, who afterwards settled on the spot, 
attached another town to the western part of the 
original one, and in allusion to the trade which they 
then monopolized, and carried on from this port, 
called it Marazion, or the Market of Zion. All traces 
of this lucrative commerce have been long extin- 
guished here, and its only exports at present are, 
I believe, the pilchards, which are caught in asto- 
nishing quantities in the Bay. The town itself, like 
most of the others in Cornwall, is irregular and ill- 
built*, but full of inhabitants. It was with concern 
we learnt that a population of between 2 and 3000 
souls should have the public services of their religion 
performed to them only once in a fortnight, or three 
weeks ! Can we wonder, my friend, at the increase 
of Seclarists, when no better attention is paid 



[ 186 J 

to the interests of the Established Church? Or 
rather, ought we not to rejoice, that, if the parent 
be so negligent of its children, the distant relatives 
should fulfill the parental duties in its stead ? Man 
is constitutionally a religious animal, his wants, his 
wishes, his infirmities, all occasionally direct his 
heart to Heaven ; and if he be not brutalized by 
ignorance or sensuality, perverted by false philoso- 
phy, hardened by vice, or rendered delirious by 
fashion, he naturally delights in a communion with 
his Maker, through the medium of public worship. 
As a great mass of mankind are happily not included 
tinder either of the above descriptions, it follows^ 
that there will be a considerable number of people 
in every extensive society, who must be anxious to 
perform a service which they consider as a duty, 
and feel to be a consolation ; and who will therefore 
adopt an irregular mode of gratifying their propen- 
sity, if they be excluded from the legitimate one. 
Such is the case at Marazion ; the Church, from the 
infrequency of the performance of service there, 
exhibits little better than bare walls when it is 
opened ; whilst the Meeting-Houses, which invite 
people to worship twice every sabbath-day, are 
always overflowing. 

I have mentioned above that the exports of Ma- 
razion are confined chiefly to pilchards. As this 



I 137 ] 

place is one of the most celebrated fishing-towns of 
Cornwall, and as we here first saw the process of 
taking pilchards, it may, perhaps, be amusing to 
you, if I describe the method employed in fishing for 
them, as well as trouble you with a few particulars 
of their history, cure, and sale. 

The pilchard and the herring so nearly resemble 
each other in appearance, that on the first view it is 
not quite easy to discriminate between them. There 
is, however, some difference in their forms, which 
may be detected by an attentive inspection. The 
accurate Mr. Pennant has remarked that the scales of 
the pilchard adhere more firmly to the fkin of the fish 
than those of the herring, which are easily rubbed 
off if they be handled ; and Dr. Maton observes, 
that the former is less compressed than the latter, as 
well as of a smaller size ; and that its dorsal fin is 
placed so exactly in the center of gravity, as to make 
the fish preserve a perfect equilibrium if it be sus- 
pended by it. Did not all animated nature teem 
with marks of that wise design and consummate 
goodness, which have implanted various instincts 
and propensities in its different orders for the obtain- 
ing of the greatest measure of happiness of which 
they are capable, the history of the pilchard would 
naturally excite our admiration. Directed by the 
impulse of their beneficent Creator, they quit, at a 



[ 188 ] 

certain season, the frozen oceans of the Arctic Circle, 
and drive in immense shoals towards the warmer 
seas of the British coast; thus at the same time pur- 
suing their food, and strengthening and preparing 
themselves and their young ones to return to their 
northern habitation, in order to spawn and secure 
themselves during the months when the Atlantic is 
agitated by storms. The period of their migration 
is the month of July, about the end of which they 
reach the Scilly Islands, and shortly afterwards ap- 
pear upon the coast of Cornwall. Peculiar circum- 
stances of the seasons, indeed, which affect the habits 
of animated nature, as well as the natural order 
of inanimate things, have been known to interrupt 
the instinctive migration of the pilchard ; and in 
the years 1786 and 1787, not a single fish appeared 
upon the Cornish coast ; but with the exception of 
these rare irregularities, their annual visit is as con- 
stant as the succession of day to night. Equally 
uniform is the time of their continuance upon the 
coast, which never extends beyond the latter end of 
December, when they regularly return again into the 
Arctic seas. Once indeed, about fifty years ago, they 
were known to remain till Christmas in the British 
Channel 5 an anomaly said to have arisen from the 
unusual mildness of the winter season in that year. 
The astonishing quantities of pilchards which thus 



E 189 ] 

annually seek the Cornish seas, may be best con- 
ceived from the annual results of the fishery. By 
an average estimate made of the exports of these 
fish from the four ports of Fowey, Falmouth, Pen- 
zance, and St. Ives, from the years 1747 to 1755 
inclusive, it appeared that the first town had ship- 
ped annually 1732 hogsheads; the second 14,631 
and two-thirds of a hogshead; Penzance 12,149, 
and one-third; and St. Ives 1282; making in all 
29,795 hogsheads; and this, exclusive of the im- 
mense home consumption, fish sold in the markets, 
and spread upon the land for manure. Great how- 
ever as this product may appear to be, of late years 
it has been coniderably larger, for in the year 1796 
above 28,000 hogsheads were taken in the neigh- 
bourhood of Fowey alone, and more than 65,000 
hogsheads through the county.f At present, indeed, 
the career of the fishery is sadly checked, by 
the want of a foreign market, though it is evident 
that were there a sale for the article, it would be to 
the full as profitable as ever, since the fish were 
never known to be more numerous on the coast 
than now.* The natural historian of Cornwall has 

f Of this quantity, Naples alone took 20,000 hogsheads. 

* The greatest abundance of fish ever known, particu- 
larly pilchards, were caught last week in Mount's Bay, 



[ 190 ] 

thus briefly enumerated the advantages which attend 
the pilchard fishery: a summary that places its 
national and provincial importance in a striking point 
of view. It employs a great number of men on the 
sea, training them thereby to naval affairs ; it em- 
ploys men, women, and children on land, in salting, 
pressing, washing, and cleaning them;, in making 
boats, nets, ropes, casks, and all the articles depend- 
ing on their construction ; the poor are fed by the 
offals of the captures, the land with the refuse of 
the fish; the merchant finds the gains of commission 
and honest commerce, the fisherman the gains of 
the fish.* As the season of the fishing continues 
only a few weeks, the people employed in it are 
seldom engaged by the proprietors of the nets for 
a longer term than three months ; but as the advan- 



Upwards of 10,000 hogsheads of the latter were landed at 
St Ives, and sold at 10d. the cart-load for manure. Turbot 
only fetched from id. to'ld. per pound, and the inferior fish 
"were not worth catching. — Bath Chron. Sept. 2, 1801. The 
state of the pilchard trade may be judged of from this cir- 
cumstance. The fair price for a hogshead of pilchards is 
about three guineas. They fetch at present from 15s. to lQs. 
per hogshead. The former of these prices was the market 
©ne at Port Isaac, on the North coast, in the years 1S07-8. 

* Borlase's Natural History of Cornwall, 272. 



[ m I 

tages to them are great during this time, they arc 
enabled by its profits, like the harvest men of the 
east country, to lay by a comfortable sum for the 
winter support of their families out of their autum- 
nal gains. Indeed it is necessary for the proprietors 
to be as ceconomical as possible in their arrange- 
ments, as the expences attending their speculations, 
are very large. The seine^ or great stop net, as it. is 
called, 1320 feet long, and 84 deep, (the largest of 
their nets,) cannot be fitted out at Marazion under an 
expence of between 11 00/. and 1200/.; to this must 
be added the cost of constant repair of many other 
smaller nets, boats, ropes, and tackle, all perishable 
articles ; the building and support of extensive 
houses for salting the fish ; and the wages of a 
countless host of men, women, and children, em- 
ployed in that process. The business of this ani- 
mated trade may be described in few words. As 
the season for the appearance of the pilchards 
approaches, particular people, at the wages of half- 
a-guinea a week, are stationed on commanding 
spots, to give notice of their arrival, a circumstance 
easily detected from the purple tinge which, as I 
have before mentioned, the shoals impart to the 
surface of the waters. These are called huers^ from 
the hue or shout by which they notify to the fisher- 
men the approach of the fish. In an instant* on 



[ 192 ] 

hearing the wished-fcr sound, all is bustle. The 
seine-boat,* properly fitted out, is pushed off, and 
being directed to the spot, its net is let down to 
inclose the shoal. This it does, by forming a com- 
plete circle round them ; when the two ends of the 
net are tied together. The whole is then rendered 
stationary by several anchors that are let out, and 
fixed to different parts of the seine. Within the 
wide extent which this enclosure embraces, a smaller 
net called the tuck, about 16 fathoms long, is -intro- 
duced, capacious enough to contain 3 or 400 hog- 
sheads, and having a bag at its bottom, from which 
the fish when once within it, cannot escape. The 
boats now approach, and being admitted into the 
seine through the two ends which had been tied 
together, they are loaded from the tuck net, the 
fish being dipped out with hand-buckets. In the 
mean time, the seiue being thus gradually lightened, 
and the anchors taken up, it is dragged slowly and 
gently to shore, and on its arrival there, immediately 
prepared for a second capture. The fish being 
landed, and the home-market supplied, they are then 



* Three boats, and about twenty men, usually attend every 
seine. Mount's Bay has five seines. St. Ives, we were told, 
had fitted out fifty; but the cost of the outfit of each is not 
not more than between 6 and 700/. at that place, 



. C 193 ] 

Carried to the cellars^ where the bulkers 9 who are 
chiefly women, take them in hand. The name 
which the Cornish people have given to their curing- 
houses, would convey to one who had never seen 
them, a very false idea of their structure and appear- 
ance. The pilchard cellars are all above ground, 
and of a quadrilateral form, though their sides are 
not generally of uniform length. About seventy- 
feet perhaps may be allowed for their average ex- 
tent. The center of this quadrangle is open to the 
sky. Three of its sides are covered by a double 
pent-house ; the outer one designed to protect those 
who clean the fish ; and the inner one to receive the 
fish after they are cleansed, and whilst they are under 
pressure for the extraclion of their oil. The lofts 
of the pent-houses contain the seines, nets, and other 
tackle, when not employed in the fishery j and 
under the floor of the buildings are contrived vats, 
or receptacles for the oil which drains or is ex- 
pressed form the fish. Being conveyed to these 
cellars on horses and in carts, the pilchards are cast 
in a heap in the center of the area, and then taken 
individually by the bulkers, who, having cleansed 
them, place them in strata of single layers on the 
floor of the inner pent-house, with a quantity of salt 
between each layer. The bulk^ or pile, thus con- 
structed, rises generally to the height of four or five 

o 



[ 194 ] 

feet. In this situation the fish remain for thirty or 
forty days, during which time a considerable quan- 
tity of oil deliquesces from the mass, and runs into 
the receptacles below. This is called maiden oil, 
and is the best which the pilchards produce. The 
distillation being completed, the bulks are broken 
up, the fish laid regularly in barrels, and again 
pressed by a mechanical force, both to extract more 
oil, and render them as compact as possible ; after 
which they are fit for exportation. The oil pro- 
duced by this second operation is of a coarser nature 
than the other, and sells for a less price. It is said 
that under these processes twelve hogsheads of good 
fish will produce one hogshead of oil. The salt used 
for the purpose is brought from Liverpool; it is of 
a course grain, serves for 1 two years, and is then 
sold for manure at \d. per bushel. 

In the prosperous days of the Cornish fishery, 
the operations which I have just described must have 
given a most agreeable character of active industry 
to Marazion during the season when they were car- 
ried on. At present, indeed, but a small degree of 
this animation is visible, as the want of a market 
throws a languor over the whole system \ but from 
a little specimen which fell under our own observa- 
tion, of the bustle produced by the appearance of a 
a shoal, even under the present depression of the 



[ 195 3 

trade, we could form some idea of what it must be 
under more auspicious circumstances. When we 
reached Marazion, the fish had not yet arrived, 
but the huers were on the look-out, and the town 
was big with the expectation of their speedy appear- 
ance. In the middle of the ni^ht the event occurred. 
A full unclouded moon shone brightly upon the 
glassy bosom of the tranquil deep : assisted by her 
radiance, the keen experienced eye of the huer 
detecled the approach of the innumerable shoals; 
and he gave the expected signal. In a few minutes a 
scene was presented to us that recalled to the mind 
ths beautiful simile of Virgil's bees : 

ct Q.ualis apes aestate nova per florea rura 

ec Exercent sub sole labor, cum gentis adultos 

" Educunt foetus, aut cum liquentia mella 

i( Stipant, et dulci distendunt ne6tare cellas, 

g f Aut onera accipiunt venientum, aut agmine fa&o,, 

" Ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent : 

" Fervet opus." 

The strand was thronged with people ; proprietors 
and fishermen, women and children, all interested, 
anxious, and alert; the boats were quickly manned, 
and rushed rapidly through* the waves, followed by 
the prayers and good wishes of the multitude. We 
could just discern them by the light of the moon 
arrived at their station, and letting down their nets. 

o 2 



t 196 ] 

A chearful cry, re-echoed from the people on 
shore, soon announced that the prey was captured ; 
and by nine o'clock in the morning nearly a thousand 
hogsheads of pilchards were landed on the strand. 

Having amused ourselves for some time with 
this curious importation, and the circumstances that 
attended it, and gained all the information wc 
wished respecling the fishery, we proceeded to visit 
St. Michael's Mount. This venerable and lofty emi- 
nence is separated from the main land by an isthmus 
30 or 40 yards over, and about 800 yards in length, 
consisting of pebbles and sand, which is generally 
deserted by the tide in mild weather for three or 
four hours during the ebb, and may then be passed 
in carriages or on foot. When the weather is 
rough, however, the ridge continues covered even 
at low water; and the Mount is thus frequently con* 
verted into an actual island for many days together. 
As we traversed this isthmus, our attention was 
directed to a vast rock of granite, which reared 
itself on the right hand side, and being left dry 
by the recess of the waters, allowed us to walk 
round it. Viewed from below, 'it appeared to ter- 
minate in a rough and craggy summit ; but we were 
informed by our guide that it has a level surface 
of fifty feet by twenty, on which anciently stood a 
religious edifice dedicated to the Virgin Mary 5 a 



[ 197 ] 

tradition that is countenanced by the name of the 
Chapel Rock, which it still bears. Having reached 
the Mount, we ascended to the town of St. Michael's, 
situated at its base, a group of three or four streets, 
climbing up the ascent of the hill, and accommodated 
with a snug safe basin,* capable of receiving 
fifty sail, defended by piers. It contains little worth 
notice, consisting chiefly of dwellings occupied by 
those engaged in the fishery; and store-houses 
for the pilchards. Upwards of 200 feet in per- 
pendicular height, above this town, towers the sum- 
mit of the mount, rising from its base, in all the 
naked majesty of barren rock, and crested with a 
Gothic church, and other buildings in the same style 
of architecture. The ascent is abrupt and difficult \ 
and defended by various fortifications must have 



* " This basin was formed in 1425, when it is recorded 
" in the register of the Bishop of Exeter, that Edmund then 
" Bishop, granted forty days indulgence to all those who 
" should contribute, or other ways assist the inhabitants of 
" Marazion in building the stone pier then begun. It has 
H since been rebuilt by Sir John St. Aubyn, the third baronet 
" of that name, in the years 1726 and 1727. The entrance 
" is in the middle of the north front, by an opening of forty 
" feet. The west front of the wall is 481 feet. Towards the 
" north and east it measures 445 feet."— -Groses Ant. viii 3 



[ 198 ] 

been impregnable, before the invention of gunpow- 
der entirely changed the art of war, and rendered 
the advantages of natural situation a circumstance 
of comparatively little consequence. Having for 
some time thundered at the portal, we were at 
length admitted within the walls, and conduced by 
the person who lives in this military ecclesiastical 
residence through its several parts. They consist of 
the ancient Saxon church, built in the reign of 
Edward the Confessor; and some more modern 
apartments, erected a century and a half since,* but 
repaired about sixty years ago by an ancestor of the 
present owner of the Mount, Sir John St. Aubyn, 
bart. Of the latter it may be sufficient to say, that 
good taste directed the architect in his designs ; and 
prevented all incongruities between the style of the 
older members of the buildings, and the more recent 
•additions. We were glad to understand too, that 



* At this time some of the ancient buildings seem to have 
been converted into habitable rooms. This was probably the 
case with a large dining-hall, (the old refectory of the monks.) 
fitted up with a very extraordinary stucco frieze, which 
represents the chase of the wild-boar, bull, stag, ostrich, fox, 
rabbit, and hare. At the upper end of the. apartment is the 
date 3 041, and over it the royal arms. The St. Aubyn arms 
are at the other end. 



C 199 3 

many interior decorations were in contemplation ; 
and that it was the intention of the present liberal 
possessor of the place to fit up the church with 
greater splendour than it had exhibited even in more 
prosperous days. Inconsiderable indeed, and un- 
known as it now is, the time has been, when its 
name was great in ecclesiastical story, and its vene- 
ble character attracted the resort of multitudes to it 
from the most distant places. I speak now of its 
recorded Christian history, without ascending to 
those remoter times, when the lofty summit of St. 
Michael's Mount was the scene of Pagan supersti- 
tions : though were we to attribute to it the rites of 
Canaanitish worship, we should have a sufficient 
foundation in probability for the supposition. It is 
a fact irrefragably established, that the Phoenician 
colonists of Gades trafficked to the south-western 
coast of Cornwall from high antiquity. It is also 
likely, that they would form settlements in a spot 
with which they had such constant and intimate 
intercourse ; and if so, where could they have seated 
themselves to more advantage than in the neighbour- 
hood of St. Michael's Mount? It follows, that 
where they became stationary, there they would prac- 
tice the rites of their religion ; and as we have no 
reason to doubt that in their various migrations they 
carried with them the superstitions of their fathers 



[ 200 ] 

so we may conclude, that these would accompany 
them into their Cornish settlements. Now, we 
must recollect, that one remarkable feature of these 
superstitions was, the practice of choosing high 
places for the solemnities of worship ; a praclice 
founded in the natural feelings of the human mind, 
and therefore coeval with the first corruptions of 
religion. The silence and solitude of such emi- 
nences were considered as peculiarly favourable to 
that mental abstraclion from sublunary things, which 
the religious spirit always wishes to possess in the 
hour of its communion with the Deity. Their 
loftiness also held out an additional reason for con- 
secrating them to holy purposes. Elevated on their 
summit, the worshipper would be far removed from 
the din of human intercourse j and, high 

" Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot 

f{ Which men call earth, (and with low-thoughted care 

" Confm'd and pester'd in this penfold here, 

** Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, 

" Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives, 

" After this mortal change, to her true servants, 

ft Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats :") 

with no objecls around him but what were solemn, 
vast, and still, every association of his mind and 
every feeling of his heart would be attuned to the 



M 



[ 201 ] 



holy purposes of bis retirement. Fancy would 
quickly catch the influence of a scene so awful and 
impressive; and superstition soon convert those 
reveries of the imagination, which it was so calcu- 
lated to inspire, into actual communications with 
heaven, and visible appearances of the Deity; a 
result that would confirm their appropriation to 
religion and its rites. From these, and such I\ke- 
causes, seems to have arisen that peculiar veneration 
for the summits of lofty hills, which characterised 
the Canaanitish worship, the earliest superstition 
of which we have any accounts; and hence it is 
that we find so many instances in the Bible of their 
being resorted to for the purpose of prayer, sacri- 
fice, and incantation. When Balak, the Canaanitish 
prince of Moab, wished for a curse, sanctioned by 
Heaven, upon the Israelites his enemies, he took 
Balaam, and led him to the high places of Baal, that 
the prophet, catching inspiration from the spot, 
might deliver the wished-for execration, confirmed 
by the authority of his God : and being disappointed 
there in the result of his offering of a bullock and a 
ram upon seven altars, he successively conveyed 
Balaam to the top of Pisgah and the top of Peor, in 
hopes that the divine communication might visit him 
on one or other of these consecrated mountainous 
summits. 



[ 202 ] 

To return from these hypothetical excursions, and 
to confine ourselves within the horizon of recorded 
history, we find that St. Michael's Mount as far 
back as the fifth century was a place consecrated to 
the Christian religion, the retreat of monastics, and 
the resort of pilgrims. Hither, in the year 490, 
came St. Keyna, daughter of Braganus king of 
Brecknockshire, with her " cockle hat," and pil- 
grim's staff", to pay her vows at the shrine of its 
tutelary saint ; but fascinated by the magic influence 
of the place, she forgot the splendours of royalty, 
and the joys of home, and continued as a devotee, 
where she had intended only to have been a visiter. 
Here too she was afterwards joined by her nephew 
Cadoc, who associated himself to the same body of 
retired religious, with whom his aunt had mingled, 
and repaid them for admitting him, by producing 
miraculously a fountain of fresh water, of which 
they stood greatly in need. A few monks continued 
here in the time of Edward the Confessor, who 
bestowed upon them by charter the property of the 
Mount, lands in Cornwall, and the port of Romney 
in Kent. Shortly after William the Conqueror had 
seized the crown of England, amongst the munifi- 
cent gifts with which he rewarded the services of 
his followers, he gave the dutchy of Cornwall 
(including St. Michael's Mount) to Robert earl of 



[ 203 ] 

Mortaign, who, out of regard to Normandy his 
native country, made the monastery a cell to a Cister- 
tian abbey in those parts, and called it St. Michael 
de Periculo Maris, from its situation, which was simi- 
lar to that of Mount's Bay. To this establishment 
was added, in the succeeding century, a small nunnery: 
for, the Cistertians, (improved, in 1 1 48, by Gilbert of 
Sempringham, in Lincolnshire, and thenceforward 
called Gilbertines,) defying the power of temptation, 
and boldly opposing the spirit to the flesh, made a 
point, wherever they planted themselves, of trying, 
or affecting to try, the dangerous experiment of per- 
petually contemplating those objects to which they 
were attracted by nature, but from whom they were 
eternally separated by the stern laws of their absurd 
religion. The success, however, of this unnatural 
effort, seems to have been but indifferent, as the 
nunnery only existed fifty years ; a period more 
than sufficient to shew its folly and perverseness. 
When Edward III. seized upon all the alien priories, 
this amongst others, came into the hands of the 
king; but it was shortly afterwards restored, and 
made denizen, on condition of paying to the crown 
the same sum that it heretofore annually transmitted 
to its foreign superior convent. A subsequent or- 
donance, however, gave again to the monarch ail 
religious houses which were not conventual, when, 



f 204 j 

notwithstanding the prior of St. Michael's appeared 
to the summons, and produced sufficient proof that 
this religious house could not be included under this 
description, the Bishop of St. David's, then trea- 
surer to the king, set it to farm at 20/. per annum y 
a rent afterwards remitted to 10/. on account of the 
monks being unable to pay the former, and maintain 
at the same time the buildings of the monastery in 
repairs which were considered at that time as no 
mean protection to the neighbouring county.* Poor 
however, as the priory might be, when this remis- 
sion was made in its annual rent, it became after- 
wards much enriched by the resort of pilgrims, and 
the donations of the rich ; and Henry VI. on build- 
ing King's College in Cambridge, conferred it upon 
the prior and monks of St. Michael's Mount. At 
the dissolution of religious houses by Henry VIII. it 
was valued at no/. 12s. That monarch conferred 
its revenues and government on Humphrey Arun- 
del], esq; who enjoyed it till his death, in the first 
year of the reign of Edward VI. when it was granted 
on a lease to John Milton, esq; at the yearly rent of 
40 marks. It a r terwards came into the family of 
the present possessor. 



* Grose's Antiquities^ vol. iii. p. 31 



[ 205 ] 

The most remarkable circumstance conne&ed with 
the ecclesiastical history of St. Michael's Mount is 
the prodigious resort of pilgrims to it in former 
times, and the salutary spiritual consequences which 
were supposed to result from this pious visit. We 
have seen that the holiness attributed to it was of 
force sufficient to draw a royal dame of the fifth cen- 
tury from her father's court, and fix her within its 
precincls ; and that a similar spirit of superstition 
produced a similar conduct in her nephew. But 
what occasioned the greatest influx of votaries to its 
shrine was an immunity granted to all such visiters 
by Pope Gregory, in the eleventh century, and con- 
firmed by Pope Leofric. " Know all men," says 
the latter, " that the most holy father Gregory, 
<c in the year of our Lord 1070, bearing an extra- 
" ordinary devoutness to the church of St Michael's 
cc Mount, in the county of Cornwall, has piously 
" granted to the said church, and to all the faithful 
" who shall seek and visit it with their oblations and 
" alms, a remission of a third part r f their penances" 
The importance of such a privilege as this, in an 
age when morality was sufficiently lax, and the 
religion professed not calculated to purify the 
heart or regulate the life, will satisfactorily account 
for the number of persons who for some time flocked 
to this sequestered spot, on the holy errand of pay- 



[ 206 ] 

ing their vows and their money on its altar. It is 
however a very curious facl, that privileged places 
of the same description multiplied so rapidly in after 
ages, that before three centuries had elapsed from 
the grant of Gregory, penitents, accommodated with 
nearer and more convenient resorts for the remission 
of their acls of penance, had entirely discontinued 
their visits to St. Michael's Mount ; and even the 
circumstance of its possessing such a privilege had 
faded from the knowledge of the very monks them- 
selves who inhabited the spot. The accidental 
discovery of an old register put their successors in 
possession of the secret in the beginning of the 
fifteenth century ; who, too wise to let it sink again 
into oblivion, painted upon the doors of the church 
a notification of the privilege of their house ; and 
addressed a circular letter to all the clergy of the 
kingdom, requesting them to publish in their several 
churches a formal annunciation of the indulgence 
that would be granted to those penitents who visited 
as heretofore the church of St. Michael's Mount.* 
Thus notified and announced, the troops of pilgrims 
who availed themselves of the remission of penance 
offered by the monastery of St. Michael's became 



* William of Worcester, p. 102. 



[ 207 ] 

more numerous than ever, and we have accounts 
still remaining, which prove that so low down 
as the year 1500, it reaped considerable profits 
from these wretched zealots of a wretched super- 
stition. To increase the mummery of this pilgrim- 
age, and to make a greater impression on the 
minds of the votaries, by adding difficulty and dan- 
egr to ceremony, it is probable, that at this recom- 
mencement of the exercise of their privilege, the 
monks constructed the celebrated chair on the bat- 
tlements of the tower, known by the name of St. 
Michael's Chair, By climbing to this terrifying 
seat, and placing himself within it, the pilgrim, it is 
likely, was considered as performing an aft of pecu- 
liar holiness, and had to boast a contempt of danger 
in the service of religion, that soothed his own 
mind with the idea of acquiring thereby a more than 
ordinary share of the divine favour ; and at the 
same time procured him the respect of less enthu- 
siastic or less insensible devotees than himself. It is 
to this self-gratulation, the result of having accom- 
pli hed the dangerous feat, that an old poet, cited 
by Carew, seems to allude in the following lines : 

" Who knows not Mighel's Mount and Chaire, 
"The Pilgrims holy vaunt?" 

We were naturally desirous of seeing an object 
which had been so famous in its day ; and followine- 



[ 208 ] 

our guide up a narrow circular stair-case to the top 
of the church tower, were soon conducted to the 
elevated seat,* learning by the way, as an en- 
couragement to place ourselves in it, that since the 
Reformation its magic virtue had experienced a 
considerable change for the better ; for as before it 
certainly ensured to airy one who sat in it the hap- 
piness of heaven after deaths so now it produced to 
every married man who enthroned himself in it, a 
heaven upon earth, by giving him the management of 



* It must not be concealed, however, that Antiquaries are 
divided with respect to the original use of this member of the 
tower : Some contending that it exhibits merely the remains 
of a stone lantern, in which a light was kept by the monks 
during the night, and in hazy weather, for the direction and 
safety of ships navigating the neighbouring sea: (see War- 
ton's note, and Grose :) Others, on the contrary, maintain 
that it was constructed for the purpose mentioned in the 
text. (Whitaker.) But perhaps, after all, the truth may lie/a* 
it generally does in all disputed points, between the two opi- 
nions. This little appendage to the tower might have origi- 
nally been formed for the purpose of a light-house; but 
afterwards falling into decay, through neglect, or on account 
of the expence attending its maintenance, it might then be 
consecrated to superstition; and a seat within its holy cavity 
be made an occasion of additional immunities to the pilgrims, 
and additional profits to the monastery. 



f 209 ] 

his wife, and the government of his family. This 
inducement, however, was not of a nature to have 
any effect on those who were satisfied with a divided 
sway; and I declined the honour of a sitting', though 
one of the party, whose countenance W — and 
myself agreed to be strongly characterized with the 
marks of a Jerry Sneak, boldly ascended to the chair, 
and enjoyed for some minutes in his dangerous 
elevation the ideal prospect of future domestic 
dominion. To us it appeared, that nothing but the 
most degraded state of matrimonial servitude, accom- 
panied with that faith which can believe a thing 
because it is impossible, would have emboldened any 
one to trust himself in a little basin, elevated above 
the battlements of the tower, projecting from its 
side, and hanging over a frightful perpendicular pre- 
cipice of some hundred feet in depth. We wished 
all success to the charm, but thought the experiment 
attended with more jeopardy, than chance of eman- 
cipation from that noxious tyranny which drove the 
unfortunate spouse to practise it. 

From the leads of the tower the view that 
spread itself before us, formed a combination of 
objects, too varied and beautiful to be described ; 
though we doubted whether or no it were superior 
to that which the same extent of country must have 
presented previously to the tenth century, when this 



[ 210 ] 

shore seems to have been inundated by the ocean, 
and a large portion of it thenceforward usurped into 
his domain. Before that time the declivities of the 
Mount, clothed with timber, justified the propriety 
of its ancient name, Car r eg Lug en Kug 9 " the hoary 
rock in the w T ood ;" meadows, fields, and groves? 
occupied the space now covered by the capacious 
bay, and stretched so far to the south, as to leave 
St. Michael's Mount six miles within the land ;* a 
wide extent sprinkled with towns, villages, and 
many of those 140 churches, which, as we have 
seen, William of Worcester attributes to the tract 
of country that was submersed between this place 
and the Scilly Islands. 

It is reasonable to suppose that the natural situ- 
ation and advantages of St. Michael's Mount would 
point it out as a proper spot for defensive military 
operations, and in facl: it became a fortress as early 
as the twelfth century ; though such was its strength 
even when tenanted by monks, that it was only by 
surprize, and not by regular attack, that this change 
in its character could be effected. Henry de Pome- 

* " Spacium loci montis Sancti Michaelis est ducentorcim 
ft cubitorum, undique oceano cin&um $ prediclus locus eras- 
<c sima primo claudebatur sylva, ab oceano miliaribus distans 
« f sex, aptissimara proebens latebram ferarum.'**-//^//. Wor* 
page 102, 



[ 211 ] 

roy is said to have been the person who, during the 
captivity of Richard I. committed the sacrilegious 
act of treacherously gaining possession of St. Mi- 
chael's Mount, and expelling the monks. The 
impious deed, however, was speedily avenged on the 
person of the perpetrator ; for Henry, hearing that 
Richard had recovered his liberty, and fearing the 
just punishment of the King for such an outrage, 
became his own executioner an the scene of his 
guilt. The monks were restored by the king, but 
the place became a military post from that time* 
The contests between the Houses of York and Lan- 
caster, which affected the most remote corners of the 
kingdom, and deluged the land with blood, diver- 
sified the military history of St. Michael's Mount* 
In the thirteenth of Edward IV. John de Vere ear! 
of Oxford, an active parti zan of the latter, after 
the defeat at Barnet, took shipping for this place, 
attended by a few faithful followers, and under the 
disguise of pilgrims, surprized the garrison, and 
seized the fortress, which he for a long time de- 
fended against the king's forces, slaying in one of 
the attacks John Arundel of Trerise, (who was 
buried in the chapel,) but at length surrendered it 
on reasonable conditions. Twenty-seven years after- 
wards, in the Cornish insurrection, it experienced 
another capture, the particulars of which Carew thus 

V 2 



/) 



[ 212 ] 

relates : " During the late Cornish commotion, 
" divers gentlemen, with their wives, and families, 
" fled to the prote&ion of this place, where the 
" rebels beseiged them, fyrst wynning the playne at 
" the hil's foote by assault, when the water was out, 
Ci and then the even ground on the top, by carrying 
" up great trusses of hay before them to blench the 
" defendant's sight, and dead their shot ; after 
" which they could make but slender resistance, for 
" no sooner should any one within peep his head 
cc over those unflanked wals, but he became an 
" open marke to an whole showre of arrows. This 
" disadvantage, together with woman's dismay, and 
" decrease of victuals, forced a surrender to these 
iC Rakehels' mercy, who nothing guilty of that 
" effeminate vertue, spoyled their goods, imprisoned 
" their bodies, and were rather by God's gracious 
" providence, than any want of will, purpose, or 
" attempt, restrayned from murdering the principal 
* c persons." 

About the same time Lady Catherine Gordon, 
wife of Perkin Warbeck, the impostor and pre- 
tender to the crown, was taken by Lord Daubeny 
at St. Michael's Mount, whither she had retired as 
a place of refuge, and delivered to the king. 

A place of this description was not likely to rest 
in peace during the troubles of the first Charles's 



[ 213 ] 

reign. In the year 1646, it surrendered to the 
Parliamentary forces under Colonel Hammond, after 
a stout defence by its governor Sir Francis Basset, 
who, with his garrison, had permission to retire to 
the Scilly Islands. The besiegers found the Marquis 
of Hamilton a prisoner in the fort, and what pro- 
bably they esteemed a more important object, a 
considerable store of ordnance, ammunition, and 
provision also ; consisting of 100 barrels of powder, 
500 muskets, 100 pikes, 30 pieces of cannon, three 
murthering pieces, plenty of eatables, and So tons 
of wine. 

Since this period the history of St. Michael's 
Mount has been peaceable, affording no particulars 
worth recording ; a circumstance in which you will 
probably most heartily rejoice, as I must already 
have sufficiently tired you with the subject. I could 
not, however, resist the inclination of being thus 
particular in my account of a place, which at once 
delighted my eye, and filled my imagination; and 
which, when we consider its situation and appear- 
ance, its history, natural, ecclesiastical, and military, 
we must, perhaps, allow to be one of the most 
remarkable spots in the kingdom. 

The enchanting beauties of Mount's Bay were 
strikingly contrasted by the grim features of the 
road to Helston ; which afforded us no object of 



[ 214 ] 

curiosity or amusement, except the Castle of Pen- 
gerswick, situated nearly half way between the two 
towns, a little to the right of the road. Its situation, 
which is a bottom, evinced at once that it never 
could have been a place of great strength, though 
from its machicolated gate, embattled turrets, and 
other features of military architecture, we judged it 
must have been built for defence. Indeed the name 
marks its designation ; pen-giver as-ike signifying the 
head ward of the cove. No topographical writer 
mentions by whom or when it was built ; but tradi- 
tion, determined to supply the deficiency, tells us 
its architect was a man who had made so much 
money at sea, that when he loaded his ass with his 
gold, the weight was so great as to break the poor 
animal's back. The foundation of this legend seems 
to have been the representation of an ass (now 
obliterated) formerly painted on the wainscoat of the 
first floor, which was probably nothing more than 
the emblematical illustration of some moral sentences 
under it. These are in the black letter ; and one of 
them compares a miser to an ass loaded with riches, 
who, without attending to his golden burden, satisfies 
himself with a bitter thistle. It is a circumstance not 
discreditable to our ancestors, that their halls and 
rooms of festivity were frequently ornamented with 
these hints to good conduct, moral sentences, and 



[ C 215 ] 

passages from scripture : they had a tendency at 
least to awaken and impress useful reflections, which 
cannot be asserted of modern domestic decorations, 
even if they be designed with all the taste, and 
executed at all the expence, so minutely described in 
Mr. Hope's elaborate publication on Household Fur- 
niture. We have only one story on record connected 
with Pengerswick Castle ; and that is an anecdote 
of blood. A Mr. MilJiton, who had killed a man in 
the reign of Henry VIII. purchased, in the name of 
his son, the domain of Pengerswick, and passed the 
remainder of his guilty life in a secret chamber of 
its tower, seen only by his most trusty friends, and, 
I should hope, bitterly deploring the crime that had 
thus condemned him to seclusion from the world. 
The town of Helston made us some amends for 
the dreariness of the country through which it is 
approached, being neat, regular, and populous. It 
stands on the river Lo, and carries on a considerable 
export trade, chiefly of the tin manufactured in the 
heart of the county. A large supply of fish had 
just been brought to its market, which were selling 
at such low prices as astonished us. Amongst 
others we observed great quantities of enormous 
Conger Eels, with their adder-like heads, and eyes 
nearly resembling the human organ of vision. 
<c What can be done with such a creature as this ?" 



[ 216 ] 

said W — , pointing to one that weighed nearly 
8olbs. ' Why/ replied the market-man, c cut him 
6 up, and put him into a poy to be sure ; they are 
c main good eating, you know. 5 W — blessed his 
stars that he was not condemned to such monstrous 
fare ; and declared he would as soon have thought 
of making a meal off the serpent of Epidaurus. 

It is only in places distant from the metropolis 
that one can hope to find any vestiges of ancient 
customs, or original manners. At Helston we 
were gratified by finding the traces of a superstition 
which the abrasion of fourteen centuries had not 
obliterated. We were told, that on the eighth 
day of May, an annual holiday was kept at Helston, 
evidently the remains of the Roman Floralia, a fes- 
tival observed by that people in honour of the 
goddess Flora on the fourth of the calends of 
May, which answered to our 28 th of April. Its 
present name, the Furry, would discover its original, 
were it not sufficiently pointed out by the time of 
its celebration, and the rites observed on the occa- 
sion. In one particular, indeed, it happily bears no 
resemblance to the Roman festival,* as none of the 



* " Kis ludis faminas, quse vulgato corpore quaesttim 
facjebant, denudari, etpudendis obsccenisque invdatis, per 
luxuqa et lasciviam currere, et impudicos jocos agere, moris 



[ 217 ] 

indecencies are practised at Helston which charac- 
terized the ancient Floralia ; but in all its innocent, 
gay, and unexceptionable features, it continues the 
same as in the earliest times of its observance. On 
the 8th of May, before the dawn of day, the cheerful 
sound of various instruments echoes through the town 
of Helston, accompanied with the roar of a chorus 
song, vociferated by a large party of men, women, 
and children ; announcing the arrival of a festival 
which is to give a temporary repose to every sort of 
labour, and to be dedicated entirely to sport and 
jollity. In a short time the streets are thronged 
with spectators, or assistants in the mysteries. 
Should any industrious young man be found inatten- 
tive to the summons to universal relaxation, he is 
instantly seized by the joyous band, mounted upon a 



*' erat. Hos in Vico Patricio aut proximo celebrabant, 
" no&uque accensis facibus, cum multa obscoenitate verbo- 
<e rum per urbem currebunt, et ad tubse sonitum conveni- 
" ebant/' — Rosinl Antiq.Rom. corpus Dempteri, p. 338. c. xv. 
Ovid endeavours awkwardly enough to give a reason for 
the obscene character of these rites : 

" Quaerere conabar quare lascivia major 
" His foret in ludis, liberiorque jocus : 
" Sed mihi succurrit, nuraen non esse severum, 
" Aptaque deliciis munera ferxe deam." 

Fast, 1.5. v. 331, 



t 218 J 

pole, borne on the shoulders of some of the party, 
and hurried to the river, into which, if he do not 
commute his punishment by a fine, he is plunged 
sans ceremonie. At nine o'clock the revellers appear 
before the Grammar-School, and make their demand 
of a prescriptive holiday ; and then proceed through 
the town, making a collection from house to house 
of money to be expended in the sports of the day. 
After having levied this general contribution, the 
troops fades as it is called (or in the modern Eng- 
glish goes) into the country, where they gather oak 
branches and flowers, and with these, like the Flora- 
Hans of old, having adorned their heads, they return 
into the town, through which they dance and gambol 
till it is dusk, preceded by a fiddle playing an ancient 
traditional tune, passing without ceremony (in the 
mean time) through any house they think proper, a 
right assumed by the party, and granted by the 
inhabitants from time immemorial. Within the 
memory of man the higher classes of the people of 
Helston used to assist in these nits, fading into the 
country in the afternoon, and when they came back 
dancing like the crowd, and observing the same 
ceremony of entering into private houses. This 
custom, however, has vanished before modern re- 
finement, and now only a select party observe the 
practice, performing their exforensic orgies after 



[ 5219 ] 

night-fall, and then resorting to the bail-room, where 
the evening is closed by the genteel inhabitants with 
a ball and supper. The unusual gaiety of the furry 
in the year 1796, is spoken of with rapture; it 
seems to have reached the climax of fun and jollity, 
A bard of the neighbourhood wrote the following 
excellent songs for the occasion, which added to 
the celebrity of the day, and the elegance of the 
entertainment. 

JANUARY. 
THOUGH oft we shiver'd to the gale, 

That howl'd along the gloomy waste : 
Or mark'd, in billows wrapt, the sail 

Which vainly struggled with the blast ; 
Tho' as the dark wave flash'4 on high, 

We view'd the form of danger near ; 
While, as we caught the seaman's cry, 

Cold terror check'd the starting tear ; 
Yet have we seen, where zephyrs breathe 

Their sweets o'er mead or pasture-down, 
Young laughing Spring with purple wreath 

The hoary head of winter crown. 
But, ere we hail'd the budding tree, 

Or all its opening bloom survey' d, 
Whilst in gay rounds the vernal bee 

Humm'd o'er the fragrance of the glade -, 
Fled was the faery smile, and clos'd 

The little triumph of an hour -, 
And melancholy's eye repos'd 

On the pale bud, the fainting flower ! 



[ 220 ] 

APRIL. 

No longer the goddess of florets shall seem 

To rekindle the bloom of the year j 
Then scatter around us the wreck of a dream, 

And resign us to winter austere. 
To its promise yon delicate child of the shade, 

The primrose , is never untrue : 
Nor the lilac unfolds, the next moment to fade, 

Its clusters of beautiful blue. 
Though weak be its verdure, ere long shall the thorn 

The pride of its blossom display, 
Where Flora, amid the mild splendour of morn, 

Unbosoms the fragrance of May. 

THE EIGHTH OF MAY. 

Soft as the sigh of zephyr heaves 
The verdure of its lucid leaves, 
Yon lily's bell, of vestal white, 
Moist from the dew-drop, drinks the light. 
No more in feeble colours cold, 
The tulip, for each glowing fold, 
So richly wav'd with vermeil dyes, 
Steals the pure blush of orient skies. 
The hyacinth, whose pallid hue 
Shrunk from the blast that Eurus blue, 
Now trusts to May's delicious calm, 
Its tender tint, its musky balm. 
And hark ! the plumed warblers pour 
Their notes, to greet the genial hour, 
As, whispering love, this arborous shade 
Sports with the sun-beam down the glade. 



C 221 ] 

Then say, ye Nymphs ! and truly tell, ■ 
If ever with the lily's bell, 
Or with the tulip's radiant dye, 
Young poets give your cheeks to vie; 
Or to the hyacinth compare 
The clustering softness of your hair 5 
If e'er they bid your vocal strain 
In silence hush the feather'd train ; 
Beat not your hearts with more delight 
At every " rural sound and sight," 
Than at such flattery, to the ear 
Tho' syren-sweet, yet insincere? 

THE FADE. 

White-vestur'd, ye maidens of Ellas, draw near, 

And honour the rites of the day : 
Tis the fairest that shines in the round of the year 

Then hail the bright Goddess of May. 
O come, let us rifle the hedges, and crown 

Our heads with gay garlands of sweets : 
And when we return to the shouts of the town, 

Let us weave the light dance thro' the streets. ' 
Flinging open each door, let us enter and frisk, 

Though the master be all in a pother — 
For, away from one house as we merrily whisk, 

We w\\\ fade it quick thro' another. 
The nymph who despises the furry-day dance,! 

Is a fine, or a finical lady- 
Then let us with hearts full of pleasure advance., 

And mix, one and all, in the Fade, 



[ 222 ] 

THE SOLITARY FAIR. 

Perhaps, fair maid ! thy musing mind, 

Little to festive scenes inclin'd, 

Scorns not the dancer's merry mood, 

But only longs for solitude. 

Thy heart, alive to nature's power, 

Flutters within the roseate bower, 

Thrills with new warmth, it knows not why, 

And steals delirium from a sigh. 

Alas ! though so averse from glee, 

This genial hour is felt by thee : 

The tumults of thy bosom prove, 

That May is but the nurse of — love ! 

BEWARE OF THE MONTH OF MAY. 

Then, gentle maid, who'er thou art, 

Who bid'st the shades embowering, veil 
The sorrows of a love-sick heart, 

And listen to thy pensive tale -, 
Sweet girl ! insidious May beware ; 

And heed thy poet's warning song : 
Lo ! May and Venus spread the snare 

For those who fly the festal throng ! * 

As it was our intention to visit the Lizard 
Point, and understanding that the roads in this 
Cornish Chersonesus were very intricate, we provided 
ourselves with directions for the excursion from 



* Polwhele's History of Cornwall, vol. i. p. 40. 



[ 223 ] 

two or three different quarters : they were, indeed, 
very complicated and somewhat contradictory, but 
depending upon our own sagacity, our general know- 
ledge of the principal bearings of the country, and 
above all on the length and fineness of the day, and 
the advantage of a full moon at night, we boldly set 
out, without a guide, upon an expedition which 
would have required the aid of Ariadne's clue to have 
performed it without an error.* Our deviations, 
however, had one moral use ; if they tried our tem- 
pers, they humbled our vanity, and left upon our 
jninds a friendly impression of the wisdom of 
Solomon's advice, not " to lean on our own under- 
** standing." The village of Mullion, detected from 
afar by the lofty tower of its church, is reached 
Without difficulty ; but to discover the way beyond 
this place, hoc opus, hie labor est. Indeed had we 
not known that the steatite or soap-rock quarries 
lay immediately on the coast, it would have been 
beyond the reach even of our acuteness to have 



* Being indisposed atHelston, I was unable to accompany 
my friend W — to the Lizard, and obliged to go on to Redruth. 
From him, however, I received the particulars of this expe- 
dition ; and not being willing to break the texture of the 
narrative, have given them in the first person plural, 



[ 224 ] 

found them out. Keeping as close to the cliff as it 
was practicable, we at length, about three miles 
from Mullion, descended into a narrow yalley, 
where we perceived the object of which we were in 
search, and the workmen employed in extracting the 
fossil from the rock. The name steatite has been 
imposed upon this production from its appearance and 
texture ; for both to the eye and the touch it bears 
the strongest resemblance to soap. 4 Its matrix is an 
hard serpentine rock, in which it lies imbedded in 
veins or lodes; almost ductile when first dug out, 
but gradually indurating when exposed to the air, 
though always retaining its unctuous feel. Its gene- 
ral colour is a dull white, streaked or spotted with 
purple or red ; though varying in hue according to 
the different combinations of its component parts. 
Five men are employed in digging the article, of 
which they procure about 500IDS. per week; and 
three or four women in an adjoining building sort 
the sreatite when it is brought to them, separating 
the finer masses from the grosser, and packing it in 
barrels for exportation. The former is valued at 
upwards of 20/. per ton ; the latter of course sells 
at a reduced price. Messrs. Flight and Barr, of 
Worcester, are the owners of the quarry, and con- 
sume the greater part of its produce, using it in 
their china manufactory, by mixing about one-third 



[ 225 ] 

of the best steatite with the other porcelain earths \ 
a combination that imparts to the ware a most 
beautiful china-like appearance* \ Borlase, fifty years 
ago, examined the various steatites of the rocks with 
great attention, and has given us the following ac- 
count of their different species : 

" No. i. The pure white is a close-grained 
c glossy clay, dissolves soon in water, is tasteless, 
c sticks a little to the tongue, deposits a yellowish 
c pulpy settlement at the bottom, above which a 
? cloud of the finest parts continues suspended ; 
c mixed with oil, it becomes greasy ; it is also too 
c fat to make a body of colour for painting in water, 
c and makes no effervescence with aqua fortis. It 
c is very absorbent, and takes spots out of silk, 
c without injuring the colour; and is possibly the 
' same which Bishop Pontoppidan calls c the white 
' 6 Talc- stone, of such a whiteness, that it is used 
' ' in Norway for powder, as it may be pulverized 
c c into an impalpable fineness.' This is carefully 
c selected from the other sorts of clay, barrelled up, 
; and almost wholly engrossed, by people employed 
c under the managers of the porcelain manufactures. 
" No. a. A white, dry, chalky earth, sticks 
6 strongly to the tongue, tasteless, dissolvess easily 
6 in water into a pulp, with acids makes no effer- 



[ 226 ] 

'* No. 3. The same chalky earth equally mixed 
" with a red earth ; its water ruddy, like red chalk; 
"■ its deposit more gritty than the foregoing ; makes 
c < no effervescence with acids. 

" No. 4. The next sort of this clay is very white, 
" clouded here and there, but not veined with pur- 
" pie. It dissolves in water with more difficulty 
" than No. i, and tinges the water with purple ; as 
" to the rest agreeing in all its properties with No. 
6i 1. This is probably the clmolia purpurescens, or 
" ad purpurissum inclinans, of Pliny, lib. xxxv. 
" chap. xvii. 

" No. 5. A glossy, pearl- coloured, hard clay, 
" approaching nearly to the consistence of a white 
'• opaque spar; soon cleaves itself into granules 
" when immersed in water, yet dissolves no farther ; 
" but with water grinds soon into a flesh-coloured 
€c milky pulp : it is much harder than soap and wax, 
u saws free and greasy. There is a more stony 
u variety of this clay, and more speckled with pur- 
" pie, so that you can scarce break it with a hammer; 
cc and I find that the more there is of the purple 
" in any sample, the more hard, and less ready to 
" dissolve in water. But the most curious of this 
" sort, which I have seen, was discovered here in 
" 1755 ; it is of a texture so close and fine, that 
" after it is cut or scraped, it remains as smooth, 



[ 227 ] 

" and of as high a polish, as the best porcelain does 
" after it is burnt. It has an incrustation of green 
cc amianthos on the side of the lode, which in my 
" specimen was the twelfth part of an inch thick ; 
" and is the most beautiful fossil of this kind I have 
" seen. This may be the Galactites of the ancients, 
" at least it Is much of the same nature, 

" No. 6. A fat mass of steatites, its coat or skin 
" about half an inch thick, of a waxen texture, of 
" a brown-yellow or deep amber colour, its interior 
" strong purple, interlaced with a paler, more cine- 
ci reous purple, the whole veined with a whitish 
<c steatites, exactly, as to the exterior, like the pur- 
cc pie Plymouth marble; it dissolves into a pulp 
" sooner than the foregoing number. 

" No. 7. In the lode (or vein), near the top of 
" the cliff, I find a kind of green gritty chalk, which 
" may be compressed with the grasp of the hand* 
<c divides in water easily, and dissolves into a 
" clammy pulp. In the more regular and contracted 
" lode below, I find the green making a stony course 
" of about an inch wide; its taste brackish; immer- 
" ged in water, it divides into angular granules ; it 
" is the most solid and hardest of any yet mentioned, 
c * whence I conclude that the green steatites, which 
Ci is tender, gritty, and pulpy above, becomes more 
66 compact in the contracted vein below 5 its parts 

0.2 



[ 228 ] 

* c attracting one another more forcibly where they 
" have not room to spread into a loose incoherent 
" state, consequently the narrower the mold, cleft, 
" or vein, the more close, hard, and stony the 
•" included substance becomes ; and if this stone 
" prove harder still underneath, as is not unlikely, 
" it will thereby become the more valuable. 

" No. 8. A deeper purple, and more stony 
€C steatites, from the same cliffs ; but whether from 
" the principal lode, uncertain. It has so much 
Ci of the nature of stone, that it does not swell nor 
" decompound in water, as the foregoing numbers. 
" Being so stony, I tried to get a good colour from 
" it by grinding it in oil ; it was very difficult to 
" bruise, but when ground fine was too greasy for 
" painting. 

" No. 9. A blackish kind of steatites, the vein 
cc about an inch thick, its exterior smooth and glossy, 
" its interior veined and spotted with No. 5: its tex- 
" ture close, corneous, and approaching in the main 
<c to a dark flint, and as hard as flint it was to grind, 
<c but it will not give fire with steel 5 being ground 
" down it became of a good burnt umber colour, but 
€C like the rest, too fat for painting. This is how* 
cs ever much coveted, and barrelled up for London, 
Ci the reasons concealed, but for the porcelain likely, 
w or glass manufacture, or both. In the same vein 



[ 229 ] 

€ * there is a small course of real spar, (very unusual 
W in our Cornish lodes,) about three-fourths of 
" an inch thick, No. 10. This spar lies not in a 
" solid lode, but in a shattery tesslated state, like 
" so many dies, loose and side by side ; it ferments 
" immediately with aqua fortis ; is subtransparent, 
<c and breaks into quadrangular prisms, the base a 
" Rhombus." 

One mile more to the north introduced us to 
another natural curiosity of the Lizard, Kynance 
Cove, a most tremendous assemblage of dark ser- 
pentine rocks, disposed by the hand of Nature into 
groups, if I may be allowed the expression, horribly 
picturesque. The descent into this recess is by a 
gloomy narrow path, awful, if not dangerous; ba- 
nishing by its dread solemnity all associations con- 
nected with the works of man, and the bustle of 
society. An interminable ocean was spread before 
us ; huge rocks elevated their august masses high 
above our heads on each side; and behind us a 
dark cavern penetrated deeply into the cliff. We 
only wanted the terrors of a storm to afford us 
a picture of the true sublime. Unhappily for the 
mariner, this awful accompaniment to Kynance 
Cove is but too frequent upon the shores of the 
Lizard. More than seven months out of the twelve 
it is deluged with rain, and the terrible south- 



£ 230 ] 

westerly winds prevail in the same proportion. 
Shipwreck is consequently not an unusual event 
here ; though the most prudent precautions have 
been taken to prevent it, by the construction of 
two light-houses on the Lizard Point, (about a mile 
from Kynance Cove,) which front the south, and 
stand nearly abreast of each other. These point 
out the most southerly promontory of England, and 
of course notify the dangerous adjoining coast ; 
but unhappily they are at times found to be insuffi- 
cient securities against the horrible darkness of the 
midnight storm, and the uncontroulable fury of con- 
vulsed elements. The Lizard Point has much of 
the character of the Land's End, but wants its sub- 
limity : those travellers therefore who would intro- 
duce a just gradation of pleasure into their Cornish 
excursion, should visit the Lizard before they go to 
the western extremity of the county. 

Our course from Ruan to Menachan over Goon- 
helly downs would have been intolerably dreary, had 
not the surface on which we rode regaled both the 
eye and olfactory nerve with a vast profusion of 
that beautiful and rare English Heath, called the 
Erica Vagans. This natural carpet of blooming 
vegetation accompanied us for some miles, and then 
deserted us as suddenly as it had unexpectedly pre- 
sented itself to our notice. Not a plant of it was 



t 251 ] 

to be seen as we proceeded ; a circumstance which 
bore as strong a testimony to a sudden difference 
of the soils as if portions of them had been analy- 
zed on the spot by the most subtle chemist. 

At Menachan we saw the rivulet which produces 
the semi-metal called Menachanite, found here in 
the form of grains, and procured by washing the 
gravel and sand of the bed of the stream. Not 
being as yet applied to any purpose of utility, 
Menachanite is only interesting to the mineralogist. 

The village of Gweek, which stands at the head of 
the river Hel, terminated the tour of the Lizard Cher- 
sonesus. It afforded also comfortable refreshment 
for ourselves, and good food for our horses, articles 
we should in vain have enquired for in the other vil- 
lages through which we passed after quittingMullion. 

Our road to Redruth afforded us more speci- 
mens of Druidical remains, on the summits of 
two lofty hills to the right, about six miles from 
Helston. They consisted of cairnes and colts , a 
term applied to groups of stones, when some of 
them are erecl, forming three sides of an enclosure, 
and others placed over them in a horizontal direc- 
tion. We had before remarked, that these monu- 
ments of early superstition were seldom found 
isolated, but usually in a series contiguous to each 
other. Here was another instance of this associ» 



[ 232 ] 

ation, a circumstance naturally enough accounted for 
by Borlase in the following manner : "It will, per- 
" haps," says he," seem surprising to some readers, 
" that many places of devotion, and altars of the 
" same kind, should be found so near to one another. 
" Karns for instance, on adjoining hills, and some- 
" times rocks in different parts of the same karns, 
" or ledges of rocks, marked with the same traces 
" of the use they were designed for ; but it must 
" be remembered, that the ancients were of opinion 
" that all places were not at all times equally auspl- 
" cious, and that the gods might permit, encourage, 
" or grant in one place or circle, or on one rock or 
" altar, what they denied in another ; an opinion 
" first suggested for the furtherance and promoting 
** of error, and continued for the private gain of 
" these superstitious jugglers; for if appearances of 
" the vi&im were not favourable in one place, if 
ic their divinations and enchantments were mistaken 
ic and their predictions failed, the fault was not laid 
cc to the want of art in the priest, or of truth in the 
" science, or of power in the idol, but to the inno- 
" cent place ; and the places were changed till 
" appearances became more supple and applicable 
•" to the purposes intended ; v * an opinion which he 



* Borlase' s Antiquities, p. 1'22. 



[ 23.3 ] 

illustrates and confirms by the conduct of Balak, 
who, when he employed the prophet Balaam to 
curse the Israelites, finding the incarnation fail ia 
one place, and hoping that another might prove 
more favourable, requests Balaam to accompany him 
to an adjoining elevation, and there repeat his arts ^ 
" Come, I pray thee, says he, I will bring thee into 
" another place, peradventure it will please God 
" that thou mayest curse me them from thence." 

It had not escaped our observation, also, that the 
Druidical remains of Cornwall were destitute of 
barrows in their neighbourhood, accompaniments 
which surround in multitudes the stupendous tem- 
ples of Wiltshire, — Abury and Stonehenge. I appre- 
hend, however, that their absence may be accounted 
for upon a very obvious and rational principle. It 
is universally allowed that barrows are places of 
sepulture ; mounds raised over the bodies of those 
who were celebrated for achievements, or dignified by 
office. Now it seems but reasonable to suppose that 
the intention of these tumuli was to commemorate 
the names of those who were interred beneath them. 
" If I must fall in the field," says a northern ohief- 
tian in Ossian, " raise high my grave, Vinvela. Grey 
" stones, and heaped up earth, shall mark me to 
iC future times. When the hunter shall sit by 
u the mound, and produce his food at noon, a war- 



[ 234 j 

" rior rests here, he will say, and my fame shall 
** live in his praise." Such being their design, 
would not those who constructed them naturally 
choose such materials for their formation as should 
be most likely to excite enquiry, by most powerfully 
striking the eye, and attracting attention? To 
those who dwelt in the neighbourhood of the Wilt- 
shire temples, a material of this kind presented 
itself, the best calculated for the purpose that can 
possibly be imagined ; the white chalk of the downs, 
which, piled into a heap, would be visible from afar, 
and opposed to the verdant turf that covered the 
surface of the plain, would form a contrast as agree- 
able as it was conspicuous. Hence arose, as I con- 
ceive, the numerous tumuli scattered over this wide 
expanse. In Cornwall, on the other hand, chalk 
was unknown, as their hills were only abundant in 
stones ; and to these alone could they have recourse 
for materials to immortalize the memory of the de- 
parted. Instead therefore of heaping up barrows, 
which would have been difficult to raise from the 
scantiness of the soil, and invisible at a distance from 
the dinginess of their colour, they constructed those 
earns or aggestions of stones, which occur in such 
numbers on all the hills, and thus left memorials of 
their heroes and priests, which, if not so beautiful 
at first as the barrows of chalk, will outlive these 



[ 235 ] 

more perishable sepulchral monuments, and last as 
long as time shall endure. 

We had ridden within two miles of Redruth, 
when a miner directed us to ascend a rising ground 
to the left, for the sake of a view. We found it 
worth the trouble of a deviation from the road, 
for it not only gave us a great command of the 
country around, but enabled us to embrace at the 
same moment the North and South Sea ; an un- 
bounded prospect both of the Bristol and British 
Channels. 

The Cornish topographers, with a very pardon- 
able degree of that vanity which characterizes pro- 
vincial writers, and leads them to attribute as high 
antiquity as possible to the objects of their antiqua- 
rian researches, have carried back the origin of 
Redruth to the times of Druidism. But alas! how 
vain are the labours of the etymologists ; and how 
weak those structures which are erected upon the 
fancied similarity of names. Behold, with what ease 
the hypotheses of Borlase and Pryce are scalped, 
hamstrung, and afterwards dashed to atoms, by the 
tomahawk of Whitaker. " The chapel,'* says this 
historical polemic, " as it is called, I consider as 
" the original church of the parish, and the original 
" cause of the town. The church was fixed here: 
" Its parsonage-house accompanied it : and the 



[ 236 ] 

<c latter, I suppose, was called Redruth, or (as tins 
cc real name of the town appears to be from some 
" writings in the hands of the lord, Sir F._ Basset) 
" Dredruiib. This name, however, was not giveft 
" it or the town, we may be sure, as Dr. Pryee 
* c fondly imagines, from Bre-Druith, the Druid's 
* c town ; though this (he alleges) it c undoubtedly 
" c signifies from its vicinity to Cam Brea, that cele- 
* c c brated station of Drusdical superstition/ How 
cc such a station could give name to a town two miles 
" off, the limping faith of un-initiated antiquaries 
" will find it difficult to say. Nor does the word 
cc Druid, though once the most respectable in all 
<c the British vocabulary, retain any marks of honour 
* c in any dialect of the British at present. Christ- 
" ianity has swept away all the heathen ideas of the 
*' name : and the word now is stampt only with. 
" the impressions of magic and of whoredom; thai 
cc referring to the knowledge of the Druids, and this 
." to the matrimonial clubs of them and their vota- 
" ries. Thus, Dryi, Dryith is rendered by Mr* 
■'* Lhuyd a sorcerer; Draoi is properly a Druid, 
" but now an augur, a charmer, or magician ; Draoi, 
" Dheacd, or Draoidheacta, is properly the 
" Druidish form of worship, but now magic or 
sc sorcery; Droide-achd, is sorcery, divination, 
4 'magic; and Druadh is a charmer or magician. 



I 237 ] 

u All these involuntary acknowledgments of know- 
** ledge in the Druids, however, are confined to the 
cc Irish. The Welsh and the Cornish are not so 
" ingenious. They know of nothing, but the lasci- 
" viousness of the Druids and their followers. 
cc Druathaim is to commit fornication ; Drioth, a 
M harlot, or other unchaste person ; Drutharnutog, 
" a bawd j Druthlanu,a bawdy-house; andDrutiir, 
cc a fornicator; Drythyll, lascivious, wanton, leche- 
" rous ; Drythyllwoh, wantonness, lasciviousnes, 
" lechery, lust ; Druov, a Druid ; Druth, a harlot ; 
<c and Drythyll, bucksome, gamesome. In this 
" view of the word Druid, Dre-druith, as meaning 
" Druid's town, must either have been so called 
" before Christianity was settled here, or have been 
" so denominated in an abusive sense. But as it is 
" no Roman-British town, it could not have been 
" one before Christianity. And the town will not 
" allow itself to be considered as a town of magi- 
" cians or a town of harlots. If indeed it was not, 
" as it certainly was not, a town before Christianity, 
<c it could have no relation to the Druids, either in 
" an abusive or a complimentary sense. And it 
" must have been called Dre-druth, from the chan- 
€C nel on which it stood ; Dre-trot signifying 
" the house on the bed or channel of the river. 
cc i This name is so very ancient/ says Dr. Pryoe, 



[ 238 ] 

<c c as to be given to the situation of the town/ and 
46 consequently to some house upon or near it, 
<c * before this kingdom was divided into parishes/ 
" and therefore in the time of the Druids, if it 
" means the Druid's town ; c as old writings express 
« s 'thus:' c in the parish of Uny (St. Uny) juxta 
" c Dredruith.* The town is not Roman-British, and 
<c must therefore be of the middle ages. The parish 
" is older than the town, because the town was not 
<c made the centre of it. But the parish itself could 
" never be denominated as c juxta Dredruith/ because 
" Redruth was a part of it. Nothing can possibly 
" be described, as situate near itself. But the small 
" church, which from its smallness Mr. Tonkin has 
" called a chapel, and which became so on theerec- 
6i tion of a larger for the town and parish, might 
" and would be so described. And the parish is 
" called in old writings that c of Uny [St. Unyj 
cc c juxta Dredruith,' the parish of the church of 
" 5/. Uny near Redruth ; in contradistinction from 
" Uny-Lelant, of which (as Leland says) c the 
" c toune of Lannant is praty, the church thereof is 
" c of St. Unine;' (v. iii. p. 21;) just as we have 
" the parish and church of Lanteglos juxta Fowey 
<c and the parish and church of Lanteglos juxta 
" Camelford. ' Though the parish is now,' Dr. 
" Pryce himself tells us ? ' and has been immemori- 



' Z 239 1 

cc 6 ally denominated Redruth ; its real dedicatory 
<6 c name is St. Uny.' The original church, there- 
iC fore, was so dedicated. This shews itself deci- 
<c sively to have been the chapel of Mr. Tonkin, 
" because the chapel stood c at the bottom of the 
<c c great street near the river,' because the church 
" is described in old writings as near Redruth ; and 
" because the name of Redruth has been almost 
" invariably referred, and is now found clearly to 
" refer, to the position of all upon the river. And 
" so at last Dr. Pryce's dream, of this town claim- 
€t ing c an evident antiquity prior to any other in the 
(C c county,* is all dissolved into air. The town was 
cc no Roman one. The town was not considerable 
iC enough on the ere&ion of parishes, to be made 
" the centre of one. It was not even in being :hen. 
" The church and parsonage house were ere&ed 
<c near the present site of it. They gave occasion 
cc to it. If I am not mistaken, the church was on 
" the west side of the brook, and perhaps the par- 
" sonage house on the east. Both drew houses 
" near them. Yet all was only a village, that took 
" the name of the parsonage-house, the house on 
" the channel. And all remained a village, nearly 
" to the days of Mr. Tonkin." 

But whether or no Redruth may be the offspring 
of the Pagan Druids, or of a Christian chapel, it is 



[ 240 ] 

at present a town, if not of surpassing beauty, at 
least of much intercourse, activity, and population. 
Situated in the heart of the mining country, it is 
enriched by a considerable part of the various 
expenditures connected with these concerns; and in 
return, spreads through the district all the conveni- 
ences and comforts flowing from retail trade. The 
day we arrived there happened to be one of its 
three annual fairs ; its long street was a crowd from 
the beginning to the end of it; and the quantity of 
fine oxen, the breed of the country, exposed for 
Sfcle, exceeded any thing we had ever seen of the 
same kind, except the shew at Smithfield, the great 
carcase mart of the metropolis* Nor let it be for- 
gotten that Redruth claims some respect, particularly 
from the inhabitants of Cornwall, in being the birth- 
place of William Pryce, the author of a Treatise 
on the Minerals, Mines, and Mining of that county;* 
a book of considerable service, and much practical 
information ; and well deserving a republication, 
with the addition of those improvements which 
modern discoveries have introduced into the mining 
system. 

We had flattered ourselves with a morning of 
much information and amusement at Scorrier House, 



* Folio, 17/S. London. 



[ 241 ] 

the residence of John Williams, esq; which retires 
from the road to the right, about two miles from 
Redruth; and though placed in a country naked 
of picturesque beauty, enjoys, by the judicious ma 
nagement of the grounds around it, and the taste of 
their plantations, a very agreeable home view. The 
hospitality of its owner, and the kind politeness of 
his elder son, had appointed a day for the grati- 
fication of our curiosity, in viewing the extensive 
mineralogical collection of the latter gentleman. A 
derangement in the plan of our tour brought us to 
Scorrier House two or three days earlier than the 
one fixed for our engagement, and we were desei* 
vedly punished for our irregularity, by finding, on 
our arrival there, that both the gentlemen were from 
home. We felt our disappointment poignantly, 
which not only robbed us of the pleasure of inspect- 
ing a cabinet arranged nearly after the system of 
Werner, containing all the Corqish minerals in high 
perfection, and a choice collection of English and 
foreign productions, but also denied us the satisfac- 
tion of a personal interview with its possessor, a 
gentleman certainly one of the most estimable cha- 
racters, and probably the best chemist, and most 
experienced mineralogist, in the West of England. 

It was a relief to the eye: and to the mind, to 
exchange the wild and dismal scenery of a great part 

K 



[ 242 ] 

part of the country between Redruth and Truro, for 
the gay, and I may add, elegant appearance of the 
latter town ; which, for extent, regularity, and 
beauty, may properly be denominated the metro- 
polis of Cornwall. Here all the modes of polished 
life are visible, in genteel houses, elegant hospitality, 
fashionable apparel, and courteous manners ; and, 
what adds still more to the respectability of the place, 
a taste for reading is pretty generally diffused 
through itself and its neighbourhood, and the 
" march of mind " accelerated, by a good public 
library, at the easy subscription of one guinea per* 
annum. It appeared to us to contain between two 
and three thousand volumes. Science also has its 
friends here; and we had the opportunity of pur- 
chasing excellent Cornish specimens of Mr. Tre- 
goning, an intelligent bookseller of the place, who 
selects them with judgment, and disposes of them 
at reasonable prices. To its other advantages Truro 
unites that of a beautiful situation ; being placed at 
the northern extremity of a creek, connected with 
Falmouth harbour, and admitting ships of an 100 
tons to its quays. From these, immense quantities 
of tin coined, or stamped in town, are exported to 
the home and foreign markets ; as well as copper 
ore, which is sent into Wales to be manufactured. 
The adjacent country swells into gentle hills, which 



t 243 ] 

are well wooded, and studded with gentlemen's 
seats. On a rise of this description to the south of 
the town, are convenient healthy Barracks for three 
or four hundred Horse Soldiers \ and near them, on 
a spot equally advantageous, a noble Infirmary, sup- 
ported by voluntary subscriptions, erected for the 
reception of those unfortunate miners who experi- 
ence the various accidents to which their dangerous 
employment is peculiarly liable.* The church is a 
most beautiful Gothic fabric, and stands, as every 
church ought to stand, unconnected with the sur- 
rounding buildings, unmixed with incongruous struc- 
tures, with nothing attached to it to mar the effect 
of its elegant architecture. The market of Truro, 
though last not the least of its attractions, is plentiful 
and cheap ; its meat fine, and its fish various and 
exquisite. The average price of red mullet is about 
a penny per pound. The John Dory too, when in 
season, (for he is a cannibal, devours the tenants of 
his own element, and gormandizes on pilchards , 
which spoil his flavour,) may be purchased for a 
trifle. A friend of ours assured us that he had 
lately seen two fine ones about three pounds each, 
exposed in the market for sale. u What is the 



* This was ere&ed in 1799., and opened the 12th o£ 
August in that year. 

R 2 



[ 244 ] 

" price of these fish ? " said he to the market- 
woman : c I cannot, sir, sell the two under 5 d.' 
Well," returned he, " if you will carry them to 
my home, you shall have your price, and a penny 
for your trouble." The offer was accepted, and 
he had six pounds of John Dory for as many 
pence. 

I am, dear Sir, 

Your's sincerely, 

R. W. 




LETTER VII. 



TO THE SAME. 



MY DEAR SIR, 



Pads tow, Jug* 20 j 1808, 



YOU will naturally expect, before I quit the 
mining country of Cornwall, I should be rather 
more particular than I have hitherto been on the 
subject of its Mineralogy ; and enter into some detail 
of the history of its mining concerns, the system on 
which they are carried on, and the extensive trade 



[ ue j 

conne&ed therewith. I shall readily gratify your 
curiosity to the best of my ability, and think I may 
venture to promise, that though the subject be of a 
less amusing nature than others which I have 
touched upon in the course of my correspondence, 
it will not altogether be without interest. You 
must indeed dip with me as deep as Dolcooth, into 
the mine of antiquarian research; but I trust we 
shall discover some ore there which may repay us for 
the trouble of the descent. The chief mineralogical 
productions pf Cornwall, you know, considered as 
objects of trade and manufacture, are only two, tin 
and copper ; as the former, however, had been dis- 
covered, and formed a branch of commerce, many 
ages before the latter was known to exist in the 
country, it will be proper to separate the history of 
the two, and discuss all that relates to T/tz, before 
we pay any attention to the other mineral. 

From the writings of ancient authors, both sacred 
and profane, we learn, that tin was known and 
manufactured several centuries anterior to the 
Christian epoch. Moses, who flourished 3200 
years ago, in enumerating the purification by fire 
of things that will " abide;" that element, makes 
mention of tin amongst the rest.* Homer, who 

- »■■«. , .,. ■ ■ 1 ■ — -»» 

* Numbers s^xi. 2.2. 



■r 247 i 

is supposed to have lived 900 years before our sera 5 
speaks of this metal thrice, if I recoiled! right, in 
his description of Achilles' shield ; first, as one of 
the metals chosen by Vulcan for the formation of 
this wonderful piece of armour ; 

" In hissing flames huge silver bars are roll'd, 
<e And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid gold 3* 

secondly, (if we receive the poet's idea from his 
translator,) as a contrivance to relieve a dark scene, 
and thow the representation into perspedlive ; 

" A darker metal mixt entrench'd the place, 

" And pales of glittering tin th' enclosure grac'djf 

and thirdly, as enlivening and diversifying with this 
bright metal the representation of a group of oxen, 



* XmKkov ¥sv vvgi £«Atev arsi§sa t KA2IITEPON re, 
¥L/zi x^vaov T([/.v)vtx, (/.on acyvpov'. IX. 2. 4J5. 

f Pope's Horn, book xviii. 666. Homer is not so refined 
here as his translator : he simply says, " Vulcan made a vine- 
" yard, secured it with silver pales, surrounded it with % 
" ditch of dark metal, and a hedge of tin." 

EaTyxsi <^e xccfAah o;#p7TF££f ueyvpsyiviy 
A[A$t os xvstvs-ov xanETov, 77£^/ Vegv.os sXaa&t 
KASSITEPOT. lb. V.-563+ 



I 248 ] 

by casting part of them in tin.* Isaiah too, in a 
prophesy delivered 2500 years since, predicts the 
future purification of the Jews, under the images of 
the Almighty purging away " their dross, and 
" taking away all their tin ; M "f and Ezekiel* 100 
years after Isaiah, specifies this metal as one of the 
articles which Tyre received from Tarshish in return 



* At $1 #5£? XgVaOlO TttZV'XJX.TO, X.X<r<7lT£(>0V TZ. 2. 574. 

Pope's translation misses this opposition of colours in the 
group, from the use of both gold and tin; all his bulls arc 
of gold. 

" Here, herds of oxen march, erect and bold, 
if Rear high the horn-s, and seem to low in gold." 

xviii. 665 » 

f Isaiah chap. i. ver. 25. The force and beauty of the 
latter figure is not generally perceived. The Bishop of 
Killalla has a good note on the meaning of this passage. 

" Thy tin, not alloy," says the Bishop, " as Lowth incau- 
" tiously renders it, for that should not be taken away, being 
" of use to render metals durable ; but tin, which of all 
" metals is most hurtful to silver, a very small admixture of 
« it rendering silver as brittle as glass, and what is worse, 
" being very hardly separable from it again, if we may believe 
" Boerhaave ; Chemistry by [Dallowe, vol. i. p. 25; Park- 
te hurst."— Bishop^of Killalla's translation of Isaiah, 4to note 
m loc. 



[ 249 ] 

for her own exports : " Tarshish was thy merchant, 
" by reason of the multitude of all kind of riches : 
" with silver, iron, tin, and lead, they traded in thy 
" fairs."* You must not imagine, (however con- 
fidently the opinion may have been advanced,) that 
the tin here spoken of was the produ&ion of the 
Scilly Islands or Cornwall, or that any mercantile 
intercourse subsisted at such early periods between 
this part of Britain and the nations above-men- 
tioned* The markets of the East had been sup- 
plied, it is true, with this article from Europe; not 
however from its islands, but its continent, in one 
part of which alone tin had been found from the 
earliest antiquity. Lusitania and Galicia, the 
kingdom of Portugal, and the north-western pro« 
vince of Spain, were the places which produced 
this valuable metal, probably in no great quantities,! 
since the price it bore seems to have been very 
MgfcJ 

* Ezek. xxvii. 12. 
-J- It seems only to have been stream tin from Pliny'* 
account. " Interveniunt minuti calculi, maxime torrentibus 
rr siccatis." 

% Pliny commences the xvith chap, of his 34th book in 
this manner: " Sequitur natura plumbi. Cujus duo genera, 
€( nigrum etque candidurn. Pretiosissimum candidum (or tin) 
" £ Graecis appejlatum Cassiteron, fabuloseque narratum in 



[ 250 ] 

Such was the original tin trade of the world. 
The metal was> found in Spain, transported into 
Phoenicia, and diffused from Tyre through all the 
markets of the East and West.* Tartessus seems to 
have been the Spanish port whence it was shipped, 
the Tarshish of the scriptures,-]- the GadesJ of 
later times, and the Cadiz of the present day. 
Whatever the trade of Tartessus might have been 
under its earliest inhabitants, we may be assured ft 
would be greatly increased when the place was 



ee insulas Atlantic! maris peti, vitilibusque navigiis circum- 
f< ventis corio advetri. Nunc certum est, in Lusitania gigni et 
«* in Gallicia." 

* M Sammes would have the people of Scilly traffick in 
*•' tin with the merchants of Phoenicia before the Trojan war; 
** as improbable a notion as ever was hatched in the heated 
'• brain of an antiquary."— Bret. p. 47. 

f " Tarshish was thy merchant, &c. Ezek. xxvii. 12. 
<f fflt£T)D est Hispania, vel Hispaniae pars, quam Tyrii max- 
u ime frequentabanr, Gades nimirum et Tartessus." — Pol. 
Synop. Crit. in loc. For an account of its trade, see Herod, 
1. iv. c. 152. 

$ This name seems to have been inaposed upon it by the 
Carthaginians, who sent a colony, to this place; enlarged 
the old town, or built a new city, and greatly extended its 
trade. # *1*73 Gadir, sepivit, maceriam murum, vel pari- 
etem struxit, Castelli Heptaglotton in verb. 



[ 251 ] 

colonized and extended by the Carthaginians, who 
appear to have made a settlement there several 
centuries before the birth of Christ. These enter-, 
prizing mariners were themselves, you know, de- 
scended from the greatest merchants of the world, 
the ancient Tyrians, and carried with them into all 
their colonies the same spirit that distinguished them 
at home. No sooner were they established in their 
new seat on the southern extremity of Spain, than 
their ships boldly pushed into an ocean untra- 
versed by them before, and roamed over the eastern 
shores that are washed by the Atlantic sea. After 
having explored the coasts of Spain, the Bay of 
Biscay, and the western provinces of France, they 
would naturally cross the mouth of the British 
Channel, and discover the Scilly Islands. Here their 
attention would be immediately caught by the sight 
of an article (and that too in abundance) which they 
had hitherto supposed to be produced in Spain 
alone, and whose exportation from their own city 
had for a long time formed the most valuable branch 
of its commerce. In the true spirit of trade, how- 
ever, resolving still to preserve the monopoly of such 
a gainful branch of it, they carefully concealed their 
discovery from the rest of the world, and giving 
a false account of the situation of the islands from 



t 252 ] 

whence the market was now supplied with tin,* they 
;ook the most cunning as well as effectual method 
of precluding any interference in their newly- 
established traffick.f The Greeks, egregious liars 
themselves, gave implicit credit to every idle story that 
was told them. They believed this romance of the 
merchants of Gades, and with their accustomed vanity 
of giving a Greek name to every place, called the 
islands from whence the tin came, Cassite rides, with- 
out as yet having any accurate idea of their local 
situation.J By the assistance of this imposition, 



* " Fabuloseque narratum in insulis Atlantici maris peti." 
—Pliny, ut supra. 

■j* TJgorspov t^iv ovv (poiyixss (Aovoi rv>v E/xwo^/av zsbKKov Totvrw sk tut 

TaScifMj KgvTTTovrEs cx.voc.ai rov *n\*v. Strabo iii. p. 240. Falconer's 
Oxford edition. Strabo calls them Phoenicians from their 
being colonists from Carthage, a colony of Tyre. 

X The discovery of the Scilly Isles must have been made, 
and the name of Cassiterides imposed upon them, twenty- 
three centuries ago ; as Herodotus, who lived about 450 years 
before Christ, makes mention of them, though he professes 
to know nothing more of them than their appellation. 

Oi/Ts mens oi^a. y.xcrcnrspioxs zuaxs tv. ruv o xxera-nspos ri/xiv' (potroi. 

Thalia 40. ei Neither do I know where the Cassiterides are 
<c whence we have our tin." The name xxcrertrepos seems to 
fcave been of Phoenician origin. * Q.uin Graequm Stanni 



[ $53 ] 

the first discoverers of Scilly were enabled to pre- 
serve to themselves the monopoly of the Cornish 
tin trade for three or four ages ; I say Cornish tin 
trade, because it cannot be reasonably -supposed that 
such spirited adventurers as they were, inquisitive 
after gain, and sagacious in discovering new modes 
of increasing it, should confine their researches to 
the Scilly Islands alone. The strait that separates 
these from the main land was, as we have before 
seen, not more than a mile in breadth ; and the pro- 
bability of finding the same article on the continent 
of Britain, which they had met with on the islands, 
would have induced less hardy mariners than the 
Cadizians to pass the gut, and to pursue their 
enquiries there after the precious metal found so 
immediately in its neighbourhood. I think we may 
take it for granted, therefore, that they added the 
tin produce of Cornwall to that of Scilly, and thus 
secured for a long period the exclusive enjoyment of 
one of the most valuable branches of commerce then 



<( nomen uncle di&ae Cassiterides possit videri Phceniciae esse 
tc originis, quia Caldaci et Arabes Stannum appellant vocabulis 
tr huic similibus." Sic Num. xxxi. 22. Pro Hebraeo V"D €t 
Graeco Keurnre^s, Jonathan habet jtfTDDP Kastira -, et 
Arab. YWp KasdrU Geo. Sac. cap. 3g* 



[ 254 ] 

known.* But the time now approached when others 
were to participate in these advantages. The Greeks 
of Phocea had settled at Marseilles ; and animated by 
the same spirit of maritime adventure with the mer- 
chants of Gades, they pushed, like them, their naval 
researches into the Atlantic, and explored the northern 
parts of this ocean as high up as the 63d degree of 
latitude. Pytheas of Marseilles was the hardy sailor 
who accomplished this achievement, and fell in with 
the Scilly Islands in the course of his voyage. He 
returned in safety to Marseilles, benefiting his coun- 
trymen by the discovery of the secret mart of the 
Cadizians, and astonishing Southern Europe with 
an account of the phenomena he had seen, and heard 
of, in his approach to the Northern pole.f No 



* The remotest parts of the civilized world purchased 
eagerly this useful metal of the Cadizian merchants ; giving 
in exchange for it the precious productions of their own 
countries. " India neque aes, neque plumbum habet j gem- 
" mis suis ac margaritis haec permutat." — Plin. xxiv. 17. 

f He mentions the tides of our ocean as rising eighty 
cubits upon the land j and that at Tkide> six days sail beyond 
Britain, the days and nights continued for six months toge- 
ther. " O&ogenis cubitis supra Britanniam intumescere 
•* aestus Pythias Massiliensis auftor est." — Plin. 1. ii. c. 27. 
u Solstitii diebus accedente sole proprius verticem mundi^ 
<( angusto iucis ambitu, subje6ta terra; continuos dies habere 



[ 955 ] 

sooner were the Massilian Greeks possessed of the 
important information, than they took measures to 
turn it to their immediate advantage. They fitted 
out a vessel for the trade ; one Midacritus had the 
honour of being named to the command of it, and 
of thus becoming the first importer into Greece, 
direft from Scilly, of the tin produced there.* 

Such seems to have been the origin of the inter- 
course of the Greeks with the coast of Cornwall ; 
and we cannot doubt that it was daily improved 
by the ardour and activity of these enrerprizing 
people. Equally sensible, however, with the Cadiz- 
ians of the lucrative nature of the commerce in 
which they had thus accidentally become parties 
patorsy they were equally desirous with them of 
concealing the source whence it was derived ; and 
though in the bonds of stricT: alliance with the 
Romans at Narbonne, yet with the disingenuity 
natural to rival tradesmen, they withheld from them 
the secret of their expeditions to Scilly, and con- 



" senis mensibus noctesque e diverso ad Brumam remote^ 
*' Quod fieri in insula Thule, Pythias Massiliensis scripsit, 
" sex dierum navigatione in Septentrionem a Britannia dia- 
" tante." — Id. 1. ii. c. J5. 

* " Plumbum ex Cassiteride insula primus opportavit 
Midacutus." — -Plm. vii. 56, 



[ 256 ] 

cm&ed them with a caution that seems even to have 
prevented any suspicion in their neighbours of the 
Masselian Greeks being possessed of so gainful a 
commerce. The Romans, indeed, still continued to 
imagine that the merchants of Cadiz were the 
exclusive monopolists of the trade ; and determined, 
if possible, to detect the port whence the tin was 
brought, they commissioned the captain of one of 
their vessels to hover at the mouth of the harbour 
of Cadiz, and watch the course of any ship, which, 
by pushing into the Atlantic, might appear to be 
destined for the unknown emporium. The orders 
were fulfilled, but their object was disappointed by 
the patriotism of the Cadizian commander. He 
perceived the Roman vessel following the course of 
his own, and, guessing her intention, voluntarily 
drove his own ship into a shallow, on which both 
his pursuer and himself were wrecked. He, together 
probably with his crew, escaped ; and on his return 
home, received a compensation from the community 
for the loss of his freight.* The perseverance of 



* Tcov cb Pufxaciuv BirtcxoXyQuvruv vxvttkfi^u rtvi, ottus nat avrot. 
ymo-tsv rx s/ATro^six (fiVoYUJ o vxvxXygos skcov sis rsvxyos s'^bCuXi rvv vxvt* 
zTrxyxyuv $ zis rov avrov oXzQgov axt tares skoijuvus otvros z<rw&r> 5ia 
trx.vx.yt-H x.xi zVEXxfis ^{Aoa-tan rw ri(A,nv uv aireCoiKs (p'-ertm,--** 
Strabo 1. iii. in fin. 



t 257 ] 

the Romans, however-, were not to be disheartened 
by a single disappointment ; they persisted in their 
enquiries after the tin islands 9 and a little before 
the invasion of C'assar, these researches were crowned 
with success. After numberless vain attempts,Publius 
Crassus made the fortunate discovery. He reached 
the Scilly Islands, inspected their tin mines, and per- 
ceiving that the inhabitants worked them only super- 
ficially, he taught them the art of mining, as it was 
practised by the Romans ; nay, what is more, he 
improved their marine, and converted them from the 
timid coasters of the adjoining shores into hardy 
mariners, that should boldly conduct their leathern 
vessels to the wide deep, and cross the British 
Channel to the continent of Gaul.* Thus instructed 
and encouraged, the navigators from Scilly soon 
found their way into Bretanny, and before the 
descent of Cassar upon Britain, another people of 
Europe, in addition to the Romans, the Veneti of 



* Ot Po^avot de o[j.% r s iret-gx'p.svot iroWxwS) £%*(AxQr,y rov frXav* 
tirti^ri xxt n&9rA/05 K^xacros !$tx$xs en* xvtus syva rx pnxWx t'K. 
ju./x^a fiaQits cpvrlcuevcc) not rov$ ctvSgxs sig'ivxias ix. irsgtov&ix: ifin 
?m SxXcctXxv sf/zQa-Qxi, txvtyiv tots uOsXuaiv svtSct^E xxmig ovsrxf 
vKum Tiqflr SitigyoyDjj t>f rr t v iBptrscvHmv. Strabo, ib. 



r 258 ] 

the north-west of France, partook of the profits of 
the Cornish tin trade.* 

As soon as the Romans had thus discovered this va- 
luable traffic, it was an object with them to direct it to 
the market through other channels than those which 
had hitherto conducted it thither. The difficulty, 
danger, and tediousness of a voyage from the Italian 
seas to the coast of Cornwall were sufficiently 
obvious to a people whose marine was yet imperfect. 
They established, therefore, on that part of the 
coast of France opposite to Britain certain stations 
or towns, in which the Cornish tin should be disem- 
barked, brought either by the natives of Cornwall 
in their coracles, or by the Roman vessels employed 
in the trade. Here the cargoes were landed, and 
afterwards transported by rivers and other modes 
of conveyance across the whole of France to Lug- 
dunum, or Lyons, the great Roman emporium in 
Narbonne. The chief of these stations seems to 
have been at the mouth of the Seine ; a spot fixed 
upon for the joint convenience of the Romans and 
Britons. Strabo has pointed out with sufficient 
precision the particular accommodation that was 
thus afforded to either party. " The Rhone," 



f Strabp, lib, quartus. Gaesar de JBell. Gall.,iii. 8. 



[ 2o9 ] 

says he, cc may be .navigated a great way up by 
" ships of great burthen, and from thence further 
" up by the rivers Arar and Dubis. At this point 
c . c is a carrying-place to the river Sequana or Seine; 
" and down this river they go to the Lexobii and 
" Caleti ; and thence to the shore of the ocean . 
" from whence the course into Britain is less than 
" a day's sail." * From this account we deduce 
that the Britons had only to bring their tin by land- 
carriage from Cornwall to that part of their own 
coast which is opposite the mouth of the Seine, 
when a voyage short and safe, compared with that 
across the mouth of the Channel, enabled them, or 
the merchants who bought it of them, to transport 
their staple to the place of its destination. This 
course of conveyance, we find from another ancient 
writer, they actually established, and fixed on some 
spot on the back of the Isle of Wight for such a 
place of exportation to the coast of Gaul. The 



* O //.ev ys Pooxvos nroXvv rs tyii'rov avxirXav xxt [x*yx\ois (patriots, 
xxi imi moKKx fjLsp'/i tyis yjuqxs ^ /a T0 rovs EC-'Xi7rTovTx: e.,g avrov 
ir^rx[xa% vnx^tiv ttauths. xxi !$tx<$syniQxi rov tyicro* Tr^E/cov. O 
dAgxp £>tos^rxi, y.xt o Aufiis o us rarov s^fixWuv sitx irs^verxt 
£**%?* ra ^nxoxvx r« norxfAU' xxvrsvSty y^r) xxTstysgETxi zis tos> 
Oxsxnov, xxi ras A'n^ofoias xxi YaSsras. zx £e t&twv zis rw (SgzTTXHX'tVj 
sI.slttuv n Y t i.MPY,7i.os ogo(j.os Ef<v. Lib. iv. p. 26l. 

S 2 



f 860 ] 

passage that authorizes this conclusion is vcd 

to us in Diodorus STculus« h has been applied, 1 

,-ss, to othci places, but I think, if you take the 
trouble of v what his been said above, you 

will agree with me, that it can onlj be considei 
as v. tat inland cai i ia y of the tin, which 

is just now supposed to have be ed between 

Cornwall and the Hampsh st. kk We will 

M now,*' says Diodorus,** ccountofthe 

m tin produced in - The people who 

M inhabit a proraontt Britain, called Bolerium, 

M are excee< eons in their 

-v- with foreign nwr* 
** chants* rhey procure the tin by working skll- 
w ft tees it. This being 

11 rocky, has earth] ftssu es, in which they get the 

vliU purify it b; ig, and cast it into the 

m form b masses,) and then 

w carr j ii to ■ on the coasi oi 

« Brtta \ cal ed I ukf When it is low water, the 



>■•)••■ he original v 

1 

. Lutunt> 



[ 261 ] 

" intermediate space being dry, they carry the tin 
" thither in carts, in a great quantity. There the 
** merchants buy it of the natives, and carry it into 
" Gaul/'f 



mud, probably from its being found in the beds of rivers. 
The same name designates an earth dug up in Egypt. Vide 
Castelli Heptaglotton, in verb. Warner. 

■f Nt/v §s <7Ttft th kx7 ctvTYjV QvoiAZvu y.xaairx^a <$t£<*tfJ.EV, Tris yxg 
&gETlxvix.r)S kxtx to ccKgajT-ngiQV To kxXh/j.evov (2eXe^i.v 01 kxtchkcvvIes 
QiXoizEvot te StxtpEgcwnjs itaiy kxi oix rr t v ruv Zevwv e^tt^uv svi/jli^ixv 
t^YifxE^wfjLEvot rocq xyuyxs. Ovroi to* x.xa<rtTEgov kxtuo-kevx^vcti, 
<piXorty(jxs £fy»£ (J.evoi tw QEgovtrxv avrov yr,\ } uvry 5 s msT^o'ns 
ttvcrx }>tx$vzis e^ei ysw^Bis, ev ais Tov iroqov y.xr ■ gyxfyy.svot, y.xi Tr)£xvks 

Jix9xi(>0VaW XTtOTVTTOVliES cT EIS OC<TTgXyx\uJV gv9[JL0VS xo/j.t^ovaiv eh T/V« 

yficrov l 7rfoy.Ei(jt.Erov [aev tf\s (Z^etIxvims ovciJ.xCo(*Evr,v Ce ly.'iv. V^xrxyx^ 
txs a^truTEis xvx%Y)%xivo(j.zvx Ta (xetx'^v roxa rxtt a/xx^xis us 
txvrriv x.r>(jj?ovj-t oa-^iTw) rot Kxaa-iTEgov. — EvteiQev oe 01 t^Traqoi <naqx 
T UV [y^uigiuv wvovvrai, kx: dixKO/xt^ovaiv Hi ryv TxXxriav.— Diod» 

Sic. lib. v. p. 301. Borlase has treated the idea of this 
inland carriage of the tin by the Britons to the Isle of Wight 
with ridicule j but there are exceptions to Horace's rule, 



--" Ridiculum acri, 

" Fortius et melius magnas plerumque secat res; 

and ridicule is not always the test of truth. Dr. Maton too, 
is of a different ooinion respecting the interpretation of this 
passage of Diodorus. (< It was to St. Michael's Mount that 
" the .Greek merchants traded for the Cornish tin., according 



[ 262 ] 

As soon as the Romans became completely mas- 
ters of Britain, they would of course engross the 
whole of the tin trade. The Cornish mining system 



<c to Diodorus, though by some the Isle of Wight has been 
" considered as the Ictis of that historian. The latter idea 
" is supported by the supposition that the isle was once a 
ee peninsula, otherwise indeed there cannot be the slightest 
" reason for imagining that Diodorus's account is applicable 
(< to that spot. ' Let us now/ he says, ' make some mention 
'• c of the tin produced in it {Britain). Those who live 
<e e about a promontory of Britain called Bolerium are remark- 
te ' ably hospitable, and, on account of their intercourse with 
Cf { foreign merchants, courteous in their manners. They 
' c ' prepare the tin by properly working the ground that 
" ' produces it. This (ground) being rocky contains earthy 
" ( fissures, the produce whereof they purify by working and 
" 'melting. When they have cut it into pieces in the form 
*' ' of dice, they carry it to a certain island lying off (the 
" < coast of) Britain, called Ictis. At the ebb of the sea, the 
" ' intermediate space being dry, they carry thither a great 
,e ' quantity of tin in carts.' Afterwards he informs us that 
" here the merchants buy it of the natives, and carry it 
'** into Gaul. Sir Richard Worsley (in his History of the 
" the Isle of Wight) and Mr. Warner (in his Topographical 
" Remarks on Hampshire) urge several arguments to prove 
" that there was once a passage similar to that alluded to by 
{( Diodorus from the coast near Lymington to the opposite 
" part of the island: and yet Ptolemy, the geographer, who 
"wrote but a short time after the historian, expressly calls 



[ 263 ] 

also would be quickly improved by all the inventions 
and processes which these ingenious people were in 
possession of ; and die Britons would begin to 



<c it N-ncros Ovvytlif, or the Island of Fectis. Besides, the 
ft Land's-End is universally allowed to be the Bolerium, or 
" Bellerium, of the ancients, which renders Diodorus's de- 
" scription most unequivocally applicable, in my opinion, 
" to St. Michael's Mount." Had this elegant author recol- 
lected that in the time of Diodorus, St. Michael's Mount stood 
six miles within the land, he would probably have hesitated 
in giving this opinion. The passages alluded to by Dr. 
Maton, in my Topographical Remarks, are as follow : 

(i That Diodorus spoke of this island under the name of 
te Ictis, I cannot doubt ; since the tin staple was certainly 
v removed prior to his time from the Cassiterides, or Scilly 
<e Islands, to the Roman Vectis, or Isle of Wight. The Phoe- 
te nicians, the first traders to our country, most probably 
<c directed their course immediately to the westward extre- 
<c mity of Britain, the spot which produced the object of 
" their traffick 5 but when the Greeks of Marseilles (and, 
" I should have added, the Romans of Narbonne) began 
" to share this commerce with them, and afterwards to 
" monopolize it, they removed the staple from the distant 
f( and tempestuous seas of the Belerian coasts to the Isle of 
" Wight, a spot much more commodious for the purposes of 
*"' trade, inasmuch as it was nearer to the shores of GauL 
<c The following observations will confirm what has been 
<e said j they were made by a gentleman of the Island, 
< f and are adduced by Sir Richard Worsley, to support th.9 



[ 264 ] 

apply that metal to their own domestic purposes, 
which had hitherto only been useful to them as an 
article of commerce. We accordingly find, that 



tf tradition of its ancient connection with the coast of 
* e Hampshire \ and to corroborate the fact mentioned by 
t( historians, of the intervening strait being formerly passable 
" to carriages and men. At each extremity of the channel 
<c between the island and Hampshire, the tide rushes' in and 
" out with such impetuosity, as to render those parts the 
<c deepest and most dangerous ; whereas near the mid way, 
" where the tides meet, though the conflict, makes a rough 
'* water, according as the wind may assist the one or the 
" other, there is no rapidity of current to carry away the 
" soil, and deepen the bottom ; accordingly we discover a 
" hard gravely beach there, extending a great way across 
" the channel, a circumstance not to be found in any other 
iC part of it. Corresponding with this, on the Hampshire 
f( side, is a place called Leap, possibly from the u arrow- 
'* ness of the pass ; and on the Isle of Wight, opposite this, 
u is a strait open road, called Rew-street, (probably from 
" the French word Rue, to which the translation of it might 
" be afterwards added.) This road, after having crossed 
" the forest, may be traced, by an observant eye, from St. 
" Austin's gate to the west of Carisbrook Castle, over a 
«« field calkd North-field, by Stnat, &c. on to the south 
" side of the island. Many parts of this road are of little 
" or no use at this time, and unless it was heretofore used 
•' for the purpose of conveying tin, it is not easy to conjee- 
M ture what purpose it was to answer. To the above par- 



[ Q65 ] 

they formed it into various culinary and ornamental 
utensils ; and some pitchers, cups, and basins, arc 
still extant, made at this period by the Britons, 



* ticulars I have to add, that the ancient road or way (of 
« which this one in the island above spoken of was only a 
e * continuation) directed its course in its progress to the 
<c Isle of Wight, through a river at Bossington, a village in 
" the south of Hampshire ; from the bed of which river, 
" exactly on the scite of the ancient road, was taken up, 
<e as I am informed, not long since, a large metallic mass, 
(C which, on inspection, appeared to be tin. Allowing then 
" this hypothesis to be true, that the Ictis of antiquity and 
tc the Isle of Wight are the same ; and that the intervening 
" strait was a common foot (and carriage) road for .the 
" ancient Britons, the circumstance of tin being discovered 
<l on the spot above-mentioned is not extraordinary, since. 
<l it might easily have been dropped, and overlooked by the 
<c carriers who were employed to carry it to the place of 
tc exportation : — whereas, if we disallow these facts, it will be 
" difficult to for many reasonable or satisfactory conjecture 
" respecting the means by which it could come into this sin- 
" gular situation." Vol. ii. p. 5. It may be useful here to 
add, that an uniform tradition has long subsisted in the Isle 
of Wight, and the opposite coast of Hampshire, that they 
were anciently united together, without any intermediate sea 
between them. Nennius reports, that this tradition subsisted 
in his time, twelve centuries ago; and adds, that the sepa- 
tion of the two gave the island its present name, that o£ 
Guith, or Wit, a British word, signifying a rent, orsepara- 
tion. A pud Galei scriptores, torn. i. 



[ 2(56 ] 

instru&ed thus by their Roman masters.* They 
also acquired the art of coating brazen vessels with 
it, in order to prevent the pernicious or unpleasant 
taste of the latter metal ; f and proceeding still fur- 
ther in the art of metallurgy, they incorporated so 
completely tin and brass together, as to produce the 
combination that isnow.called bell-metal. J 

As long as the Romans continued to be masters 
of Britain, so long the Cornish tin trade appears to 
have been conducted in the manner above-mentioned; 
and even after their departure from Britain, and 
during the asra of the Saxon irruptions into this 
country, as Cornwall was but little exposed to the 
fury of their invaders, it is probable that the inhabit- 
ants of it still furnished the continent with a quan- 
tity of their native metal. Cornwall was conquered 
by Athelstan ; but such was the confusion of Eng- 



* Philosophical Transactions, 175Q, parti, p. 13. 

f Pliny, xxiv. c. 17. 

J Plin. xxiv. c, 17. It will be seen that in the above 
account of the ancient tin trade of Cornwall, I differ from. 
Eorlasc, Pryce, and even Whitaker. I however confess 
myself much indebted to the last learned writer for many 
lights and assistances on this dark and perplexed subject. — 
See Supplement to Pohvhele's Hist. Corn. 



[ 267 ] 

land at that period, from the incursions of the Danes, 
that all the arts of peace, and mining amongst the 
rest, must have been for a time interrupted if not 
destroyed ; nor does it appear that the Cornish 
people pursued the search of tin with any vigour, 
till the kingdom was again in some degree settled 
by the Norman conquest. The Normans were an 
active and industrious race. They soon turned their 
attention to the improvement of their acquisition ; 
and amongst other objects of importance set them- 
selves seriously to work and improve the tin-mines 
of Cornwall. From this period, where we get 
upon the solid ground of written record, and leave 
the regions of hypothesis, the history of the tin 
trade, and the regulations of the mining system, as 
far as they relate to that article, cannot be given 
in better words, or in a clearer manner, than 
they are by Dr. Borlase. <c In the time of King 
" John," says he, " I find the product of tin in this 
" county very inconsiderable, the right of working 
tc for tin being as yet wholly in the king, (King 
" John being at this time also Earl of Cornwall,) 
" the property of the tinners precarious and unset- 
<c tied, and what tin was raised was engrossed and 
" managed by the Jews to the great regret of the 
" barons and their vassals. The tin-farm of Corn-, 
* c wall at this time amounted to no more than one 



[ 2(58 ] 

u hundred marks, according to which valuation the 
cc Bishop of Exeter received then in lieu of his 
" tenth part, and still receives from the Duke of 
C6 Cornwall annually the sum of 61. 13s. ^d. so low 
cc were the tin profits then in Cornwall, whereas in 
** Devonshire the tin was then set to farm for 100/. 
cf yearly. King John, sensible of the languishing 
" state of this manufacture, granted the county of 
" Cornwall some marks of his favour, disforested 
et what part of it was then subject to the arbitrary 
<c forest law, allowing it equal title to the laws of 
u the kingdom with the other parts of England, 
** and is said to have granted a charter to the tin- 
cc ners (Carew, p. 17), but what it was does not 
* c appear, 

cc In the time of his son Richard, king of the 
*• Romans and earl of Cornwall, the Cornish mines 
c< were immensely rich, and the Jews being farmed 
<c out to him by his brother Henry III. what inte- 
" rest they had was at his disposal: at the same 
<c time the tin-mines in Spain were stopped from 
cc working by the Moors, and no tin being as yet 
" discovered in Germany, Cornwall had all the 
" trade of Europe for tin, and the earl the almost 
* c sole profit of that trade. This prince is said to 
46 have made several tin-laws ; but matters soon 
i€ declining into disorder, where the prince has too 



[ $69 ] 

i€ much, and the subjects little or nothing, and the 
" Jews being banished the kingdom in the eighteenth 
" of Edward I. the mines were again neglecled, for 
" want of proper encouragement to labour, and 
" security to enjoy and dispose of the produces of 
" that labour ; which the gentlemen of Biackmoor 
" (lords of seven tithings, best stored at that time 
cc with tin) perceiving (Carew, p. 17), addressed 
" themselves to Edmund earl of Cornwall, (son of 
" Richard king of the Romans, &c.) and obtained 
" from him, confirmed by his own seal, a charter 
cc with more explicit grants of the privileges of 
" keeping a court of judicature, holding plea of all 
" actions, (life, limb, and land excepted,) of mana- 
" g m g an d deciding all stannary causes, of holding 
" parliaments at their discretion, and of receiving, 
" as their own due and property, the toll-tin, that 
" is, one-fifteenth of all tin raised. At this time 
< c also, as it seems to me, the rights of bounding or 
" dividing tin-grounds into separate portions for the 
ic encouragement of searching for tin, were either 
" first appointed, or at least more regularly adjusted 
" than before, so as that the labouring tinner might 
" be encouraged to seek for tin by acquiring a pro- 
" perty in the lands where he should discover ir, 
" and that the farm-tin acquired by the bounder, 



[ 270 ] 

"and the toll-tin, which was the lord's share, 
" might remain distinct and inviolated. For the 
€t better promotion of tin-working in all waste and 
<c uninclosed grounds, every tinner had leave to 
" place his labour in searching for tin ; and when 
" he had discovered tin, (after due notice given in 
V the stannary court to the lord of the soil, and for- 
<c mally registering the intended bounds without 
" opposition or denial,) he might, and at this time 
" still may, mark out the ground in which he should 
" chuse to pursue his discovery, by digging a small 
<c pit at each angle of such wasteral, which pits are 
cc called bounds ; by this means he did acquire a right 
" in all future workings of such grounds, either to 
" work himself, or set others to work upon his own 
" terms, reserving to the lord of the soil one fifteenth 
" part of all tin raised therein. In Devonshire, 
" ' the tinners constitution (says Mr. Carew, p. 14) 
" * enables them to dig for tin in any man's ground 
" c inclosed or uninclosed, without license, tribute, 
" c or satisfaction;' which infraction of common 
" property shews that the constitution of the stan- 
cc naries was never equitably established in that 
" county, as the same judicious author observes. 
u These pits, all bounders, by themselves or others, 
" are obliged to renew every year, by cutting the 



[ 271 ] 

" turf and cleaning up the dirt and rubbish which 
" falls into them, to the intent that such land- 
" marks may not be obliterated. In consideration 
u of these privileges so granted by charter, the gen- 
** tlemen tinners obliged themselves to pay unto 
" Edmund and his successors Earls of Cornwall, the 
w sum of four shillings for every hundred weight of 
" white tin, a very high duty at the time it was laid 
u on, the tinners of Devonshire then paying but 
" eight-pence for every hundred weight of tin; and 
" that the payment of this tax might be the better 
*< secured, it was agreed, that all tin should be 
" brought to places purposely appointed by the 
" prince, there weighed, coined, and kept, till the 
" Earl of Cornwall's dues were paid. To this 
" charter there was a seal with a pick-axe and shovel 
cc in soltire, (says Carew, page 17), as he was 
" informed by a gentleman who had seen this char- 
" ter, though in Carew's time it was not extant, 

" In the thirty-third of Edward I. this charter of 
" Edmund seems to have been confirmed, and the tin- 
* c ners of Cornwall were made a distinct body from 
** those of Devonshire ; whereas before, the tinners 
" of both counties were accustomed to meet on 
" Hengston-Hill every seventh or eight year to con- 
" cert the common interest of both parties. Two 
" coinages yearly, viz. at Midsummer and Michael- 



[ 272 ] 

<c mas, were also granted by this charter, and the till- 
cc ners had the liberty of selling each man his own tin, 
" unless the king insisted on buying it himself. 

" A farther explanation of the Cornish privileges 
" and laws was made by the fiftieth of Edward III. 
<; (Carew, p, 17,) and their liberties confirmed and 
" enlarged by parliament in the eighth of Richard 
" II. third of Edward IV. first of Edward VL 
" first and second of Philip and Mary, and in the 
<c second of Elizabeth ; and the whole society of the 
" tinners of Cornwall, till then reckoned as one 
cc body, was divided into four parts, called from the 
iC places of the principal tin-workings of that time, 
" Fawy-moor, Black-moor, Trewarnheyl, and Pen- 
c< with. One general Warden* was constituted to 
cc do justice in law and equity with an appeal from 
" his decision to the Duke of Cornwall in Council 
cc only, or for want of a Duke of Cornwall to the 
€C crown. 



* " The Lord-warden appoints a Vice-warden to determine 
<c all stannary disputes every month: he constitutes also four 
<f stewards, (one for each of the four stannary precincts before 
" mentioned,) who hold their courts every three weeks, and 
€C decide by juries of six persons, with an appeal reserved to 
" the Vice-warden, thence to the Lord-warden, thence 
* f finally to the Lords of the Prince's Council." 



[ 273 2 

* c Thus continued the tin establishment till the 
<c reign of Henry VII. when Arthur, eldest son of 
" that king, and consequently Duke of Cornwall, 
" made certain constitutions relating to the stanna- 
" ries, which the tinners refused to observe, and 
" indulging themselves in other irregularities not 
" consistent with their charters, Henry VII. after 
" his son Arthur's death, seized their charter 
" as forfeited; but upon proper submission, by 
" his own new charter restored all their former pri- 
" vileges, and enlarged them with this honourable 
" and important addition, that no law relating to the 
* c tinners, should be enabled without the consent of 
" twenty-four gentlemen tinners, six to be chosen 
a by a mayor and council in each of the stannary 
" divisions. This charter was confirmed by the 
" twentieth of Elizabeth, and (it being found incon- 
" venient that the consent of the whole twenty-four 
" should be required) it is declared at the meeting 
" of every convocation or parliament of tinners, 
" that the consent of sixteen stannators shall be 
" sufficient to enact any law. Accordingly, when 
" any more than ordinary difficulties occur, and either 
*' new laws for the better direction of the tinners and 
<c their affairs, or a more explicit declaration and 
" enforcement of the old ones become necessary, 
" the Lord- warden, by commission from the Duke 

T 



[ 274 ] 

c< of Cornwall, or from the Crown, if there be no 
* duke, issues his precept to the four principal 
" towns of the stannary districts, viz. Lanceston for 
" Fawy-moor, Lostwythiel for Black-moor, Truro 
" for Trewarnheyl, and Helston for Penwith. 
" Each town chuses six members, and the twenty- 
" four so chosen, called Stannators, constitute the 
" parliament of tinners. In the reign of Elizabeth, 
" Sir Walter Raleigh being Lord-warden, the tin- 
" ners perceiving that by the charter of Henry VII, 
" no law could be enacted, unless the full number of 
" twenty-four stannators concurred, proposed that 
" twenty-four other stannators should be chosen, six 
" at each of the tin-courts holden for each stannary, 
" returned by the steward and added to the former 
*' number, in order to make forty-eight members ; 
sc and that the majority of that number, or as many 
" as should assemble of that number, should be 
?c enabled to make laws. This proposal did not take 
iQ effect ; but in the twenty-sixth of Charles II. 1 6y^ 
" some terms and claims insisted upon by the Crown 
" meeting with great opposition, the stannators, 
u being under difficulties, named to the then Vice- 
" warden six persons for each stannary, and desired 
" they might be summoned by the Vice- warden to 
" meet and consult with that convocation. Since 
** that time it is usual, but not necessary, for every 
" stannator to name an. assistant, and the twenty- 



[ 275 ] 

<c four assistants are a kind of standing council, and 
" assemble in a different apartment, and are at hand 
" to inform their principals of calculations, ditHcul- 
« c ties, and the state of things among the lower 
" class of tinners, such as the stannators might not 
" otherwise be so well acquainted with. The stan- 
" nators, for the more orderly dispatch of business, 
" chuse their speaker, and present him to the Lord- 
<c warden to be approved. Whatever is enacted by 
<c this body of tinners, must be signed by the stan- 
" nators, the Lord-warden, (or his deputy, the Vice- 
" warden, who presides in his absence,) and after- 
" wards either by the Duke of Cornwall or the 
tc sovereign ; and when thus passed, has all the 
<c authority, with regard to tin affairs, of an act of 
f* the whole legislature." 

Although tin may be said to have become art 
object of secondary consideration in Cornwall, since 
the discovery of its copper mines, yet this branch of 
trade still continues to be very lucrative to the 
county. The annual sales of tin from it at present 
amount to 300,000/. and the number of mines and 
stream-works, small and great, are between one and 
two hundred.* Of these, the largest and most pro* 

* Tin is found either collected and fixed, or loose and 
detached j in the first case, it is'either accumulated in a lode} 
T 2 



[ 276 ] 

du&ive arc, Hucl Unity, and Poldlcc, in Gwennap ; 
Cook's Kitchen, in Illogan ; Trevennen, near Hel- 
ston ; Rosewall Hill, near St. Ives ; and Botallack, 
near St. Just. They produce upon an average from 
600/. to 800/. worth of tin per month each. To 
these more important mines may be added the stream 
work at Carnan, four miles' from Truro, which 
yields about 8000/. worth of tin annually.* 



or in a floor, or interspersed in grains and bunches, in the 
natural rock : in the second and more dispersed state, it is 
found either in single separate stones, called shodes j or in a 
continued course of such stones, called the Benheyl or Stream: 
or lastly, in an arenaceous pulverized state. The streams 
are of different breadths, seldom less than a fathom ; often- 
times scattered, though in different quantities, over the 
whole width of the moor, bottom, or valley, in which they 
are found j and when several such streams meet, they often- 
times make a very rich floor of tin, one stream proving as it 
were a magnet to the metal of the other. Borlases Nat. Hist. 
The streams are found at the distance of a furlong or more 
from the veins or lodes to which they originally belonged j and 
from which the masses have been accidentally separated by 
some operation of nature, washed or rolled from their origi- 
nal situation, and accumulated together in some adjoining 
lower level. 

* The number of men employed in the tin mines is very 
considerable j but in no one mine much above 150} and from 
\hat number down to only two men. Many women and 



C 277 1 

It is generally supposed that tin lodes are of an 
earlier formation than veins of copper ore, and the 
hypothesis receives some confirmation of its truth 
from the following fact : that if a shift or movement 
of the earth have taken place where a tin and copper 
lode intersect each other, the former is often removed 
several fathoms from its original position, whilst the 
latter continues its regular course or direction.f 



children also find means of livelihood in preparing the ore 
after it is raised. 

■f Miners also meet with veins nearly perpendicular, called 
cross-courses, composed of quartz and clay, which take a 
direction from north to south, and of course intersect the cop- 
per and tin lodes, which are from east to west ; and some- 
times one end is removed as far as forty fathoms north or 
south from the other, though no appearance of movement k 
observable at the surface. 



Soutli- 





.North 



In these cross courses are found detached pieces of the tin or 
copper lodes, and particularly between the separated parts, 
These masses are entirely similar to what is raised from tl>* 
lode so separated. 



[ 278 ] 

i cc The indications of the presence of a hde"* 
Dr. Maton observes, " in a particular spot are vari- 

" ous. The most general are either a barren 

" patch and a partial deficiency of vegetation, (but 

u this can happen only when a lode is near the 

** surface of the ground,) or scattered fragments of 

* c ore, called shodes, when they lie contiguous to a 

" substance of primitive formation, such as granite, 

-* c quartz, killas, &c. — or a metallic, harsh taste in 

" springs and rills. But by whatever accident or 

" method a lode be discovered, the leave of the 

" lord of the soil must be obtained before any 

" workings are commenced. On a waste, or com- 

" mon, indeed, any one has a right to set up 

" bounds, or in other words, to take possession of 

" a spot, and the bounder's consent is as necessary 

" to adventurers as the lord's in the former case. 

" The lord's share of the profits (which is called 

<c his dish) is generally one sixth, or one eighth, 

" clear of cost ; the shares of the adventurers de- 

Ci pend on their original contributions and engage- 

66 ments. 



■ •* '" A lode is a crack, or fissure, (in the earth,) containing a 
*' metallic substance which maybe conceived to haveinsinu- 
" ated itself, as it were, into it, like the sparry matter of 
«' Lucius Helmontii into the cracks of the clay. 



[ m ] 

" In digging a mine, the three material points to 
<c be considered are the removal of the barren rock, 
* J or rubbish, the discharge of water, (which abounds 
" more or less in every mine,) and the raising of the 
" ore. Difficulties of course increase with depth, 
" and the utmost aid of all the mechanical powers 
* is sometimes ineffectual when the workings are 
" deep and numerous. Mountains and hills are 
" dug with the most convenience, because drains 
" and adits may be cut to convey the water at once 
<c into the neighbouring valleys. These adits are 
" sometimes continued to the distance of one or two 
" miles, and, though the expense is so very con- 
" siderable, are found a cheaper mode of getting 
u rid of the water than by raising it to the top, 
" especially when there is a great flow and the mine 
" very deep. It seldom happens, however, that a 
" level is to be found near enough for an adit to be 
" made to it from the bottom of a mine ; recourse 
" must be had to a steam-engine, by which the 
" water is brought up to the adit, be the height of 
" it what it may. As soon as a shaft is sunk to 
" some depth, a machine called a whim is erected, 
<c to bring up either rubbish or ore, which is pre- 
" viously broken into convenient fragments by pick- 
" axes and other instruments. The whim is com- 
" posed of a perpendicular axis, on which turns a 



[ 280 ] 



cc 



4C 



large hollow cylinder, of timber (called the cage\ 
and around this a rope (being directed down the 
shaft by a pulley fixed perpendicularly at the 
" mouth of it) winds horizontally. In the axis a 
<c transverse beam is fixed, at the end of which two 
" horses or oxen are fastened, and go their rounds, 
" hauling up a bucket (pr kibbul) full of ore, or 
" rubbish, whilst an empty one is descending. The 
" ore is blown out of the rock by means of gun- 
" powder. When it is raised out of the mine, it is 
" divided into as many shares (or doles) as there 
<6 are lords and adventurers, and these are measured 
" out by barrows, an account of which is kept by a 
" person who notches a stick. Every mine enjoys 
" the privilege of having the ore distributed on 
" the adjacent fields. It is generally pounded 
" or stamped on the spot in the stamping mill ; 
" if full of slime, it is thrown into a pit called a 
<c huddle, to render the stamping the more free 
" without choaking the grates. If free from 
" slime, the ore is shovelled into a kind of sloping 
<c canal of timber, called the pass, whence it slides 
" by its own weight, and the assistance of a small 
" stream of water, into the box where the lifters 
" work. The lifters are raised by a water wheel, 
" and they are armed at the bottom with large 
€t masses of iron, (perhaps one hundred and forty 



[ 281 ] 

" pounds in weight,) which pound or stamp the ore 
** small enough for its passage through the holes of 
" an iron grate fixed in one end of the box. To 
" assist its attrition, a rill of water keeps it constantly 
" wet, and it is carried by a small gutter into the 
" fore pit where it makes its first settlement, the 
" lighter particles running forward with the water 
«< into the middle pit, and thence into the third, 
" where what is called the slime settles. From 
" these pits they carry the ore to the keeve, when 
" it is quite washed from all its filth, and rendered 
<c clean enough for the smelting-house." 

The tin being thus prepared for melting, it is 
carried to works constructed for this operation, and 
delivered to the melter, who is paid for the labour 
and expense of this process, not in money, but 
by receiving about eight parts out of twenty of the 
quantity melted. Here it is assayed, to determine 
its quality, then fused, and run into moulds of an 
oblong form, containing about 300ID. weight of 
metal each. When sufficiently cooled, the masses 
are taken out of the moulds, and (under the name 
of blocks of tin) carried to the coinage towns to be 
coined.* This process, which takes place at stated 



* These towns are Liskeard, Lostwithiel,, Truro, Helston, 
and Penzance. 



r 282 ] 

seasons of the year, is performed by the Prince of 
Wales's officers, (as Duke of Cornwall,) who cut 
off a mass from the corner of each block, (about a 
quarter of a pound in weight,) and then stamp it 
with the seal of the dutchy, and the initials of the 
house of the smelter, both as a permission to sell, 
and as an assurance to the purchaser that the tin is 
unadulterated. The duty of this authentication is 
4s. in the hundred weight, forming a principal part 
of the Cornish revenue of the Prince of Wales* 
The blocks are then carried to the different ports, 
and shipped off for London or Bristol.* 

You will be glad to find that I do not mean to 
detain you so long on the subject of Copper, as 
I have on that of Tit?. Happily for you, there is 
here no ignis fatuus to lead us a dance into the 
dimly-discovered regions of antiquity ; no delight- 
ful passage in an old Greek or Latin author, to 
amuse our fancy, or exercise our philology. The 
history of Cornish copper is as a mushroom of last 
night compared with that of its tin. Lying deep 
below the surface of the earth, it would be con- 
cealed from the enquiries of human industry, till 



* A considerable quantity of tin used to be shipped for 
the Levant. It* was smelted into bars about two feet and a 
half long, flat, and of a fingers breadth. 



[ 283 ] 

such time as natural philosophy had made consider- 
able progress, and the mechanical arts had nearly 
reached their present state of perfection.* Accord- 
ingly we do not find that any regular researches 
were made for copper ore in Cornwall, till the latter 
end of the fifteenth century, when a few adventurers 
worked in an imperfect manner some insignificant 
mines, probably with little use to the public, and 
little profit to themselves. Half a century after- 
wadrs> in the reign of Elizabeth, though the product 
of the mines would be naturally greater than before, 
from the increased industry of the people, and the 
improved state of the arts, yet little advantage seems 
to have been derived to the county of Cornwall at 
large from the working of its copper. Mr. Carew 
hints at the small profits made from it in his time, 
and assigns as a cause of it the ignorance in which 
the mine proprietors were kept by the merchants, 
with respect to the uses and application of the 
metal.f In the next reign, however, all this mystery 
was dispersed ; the mines were inspected, their 



* Tin in Cornwall seldom runs deeper than fifty fathom 
below the surface. Good copper is rarely found at a less 
depth than that. 

f Borlase's Natural History, p. 204. 



[ 284 ] 

value determined, and a system of working them to 
greater advantage introduced. This was effe&ed by 
the vigilance of Mr, Nor den, (Cornish surveyor to. 
the Prince of Wales,) who, having observed that 
certain artful practices were adopted to conceal the 
real value of the copper produced from the mines, 
wrote a letter to King James I. communicating the 
frauds, and recommending that means might be 
zioptcd to prevent them in future.* The general 
confusion, however, into which the kingdom was 
thrown in the time of Charles I. checked the cop- 
per mines of Cornwall ; nor were they characterized 
by peculiar activity and proportionate profit till after 
the Revolution ; when a company of gentlemen from 
Bristol paying a visit of speculation to them, made 
a general purchase of their produce at various prices, 
from iL i ox. to 4/. per ton. The bargain proved 
to be highly advantageous to the purchasers, a secret 
that quickly transpired ; and induced another com- 
pany from the same place, a few years afterwards, 
to covenant with some of the principal Cornish 
miners to purchase all their copper ores, at a stated 
low price, for a certain term of years. This free 
demand would naturally sharpen the attention, and 



1 Pryce's Mineralogy of Cornwall, p. 2S7. 



[ 285 ] 

Spur the industry, of the mine proprietors; their 
views began to extend, and prospers of great for- 
tune to open upon them ; though it is strange to 
add, such was still the backward state of mineralogy, 
that the yellow copper ore, which is at present so 
valuable, was at the time above-mentioned considered 
of no importance, called poder 9 (that is, dust,) and 
put aside as mundic* In the reign of George I. 
the Cornish mining system in general, and particu- 
larly as it related to copper, was considerably im- 
proved. A Mr, John Costar was the person to 
whom the county is indebted in this respect. Being 
an excellent metallurgist, and a good natural philo- 
sopher and mechanic, he undertook the draining of 
some considerable mines, and executed the attempt 
with success. He then introduced a new system of 
dressing and assaying the ore, improved upon the 
old machinery, and invented additional engines. In 
short, he seems to have given a new character to the 
copper concerns of Cornwall ; and been the father 
of many of the processes which render them so pro- 
fitable as they at present are. The state of the 
copper market from this period for the next fifty 
years will evince the importance, in a national as 
well as provincial point of view, to which it had 

* Borlase's Natural History, p. 207. 



[ 286 ] 

then attained. " The quantity of ore sold from 
" 1726 inclusive, to the end of 1735, was 64,800 
" tons, at an average price of 7/. 15X. lod. per ton, 
" amounting to 473,500/. which must have been 
iC yearly 47,350/. From 1736 inclusive, to the 
"■ end of 1745, 75,520 tons of copper ore were 
" sold at 7/. 8x. 6d. average price, the amount 
cc 560,106/. in the gross, and 56,010/. yearly. From 
" 1746 inclusive, to the end of 1755, the quantity 
44 sold was 98,790 tons, at 7/. 8s. the ton, the 
" amount 731,457/. ; annually 73,145/. From 
sc 1756 inclusive, to the end of 1765, the quantum 
" sold made 169,699 tons, at the average price of 
" 7/. 6s. 6d. amounting to the sum of 1,243,045/. 
;c and 124,304/. yearly. Lastly, from 1766 to the 
" end of 1777, 264,273 tons of copper ore were 
4C disposed of at 61. 14s. 6d. per ton, amounting 
" in all to 15778,337/. which must have returned 
" 177,833/. every year of the last ten."* 

The quantity of copper ore, however, raised annu- 
ally since the time when the above account closes, 
has been larger in every successive year till 1 3o8$ 
when the diminution of the demand lowered the 
price, and lessened, of course, the number of specu- 



Pryce's Mineralogy, introdufik. p. xi. xii, 



[ 287 ] 

lations. The following schedule of the produ&ions 
of four recent years, in copper ore, fine metal, and 
the sums for which it sold, will afford an interesting 
view of this branch of the trade of Cornwall, imme- 
diately previous to its late check,* 

Copper Ore Fine Copper £. 

1803 - 54,381 tons, containing 5,351 sold for 500,144 

1804 - 64,597 5,373 - - - 571,123 

1805 - 80,043 6,416 - - - 868,2^5 

1807 - 73,405 ----- 6,827 " - - 630,267 



* There is something very peculiar in the manner in 
which the bargains are made between the buyer and seller, 
in the disposal of the ore. The former consists of a certain 
number of companies, (at present, I believe, of twelve or thir- 
teen,) who purchase from the adventurers all the copper 
raised in Cornwall. Previous to every sale, which always 
takes place once a month, a certain proportion, called a 
sample, is taken from every different lot to be disposed of, by 
men appointed for the purpose, called samplers, and prepared 
for the inspection of the agents of the companies, who, a 
fortnight before the day of sale, carefully examine the same, 
report to their principals the worth of the lots> and receive 
their directions as to the price they are to offer for the same. 
Thus instructed, on the monthly ticketing' day, as it is called, 
they meet the proprietors of the mines, or their agents, either 
at some neighbouring inn, or in a commodious room fitted 
up for the purpose on the works, where a splendid dinner is 



C 288 2 

Though the present depression in the Cornish 
copper trade may obviously be attributed in a great 
measure to the blasting influence of a long protracted 



provided, at the expense of the proprietors, in proportion to 
the magnitude of their different lots. After the cloth is 
removed, the agent for each company delivers in his ticket, 
containing the different prices which he has to offer for the 
different lots of ore exposed for sale. This ticket is a sheet 
of printed paper, divided into as many perpendicular columns 
as there are companies, with an additional one, standing 
before the others, for the specification of the several lots for 
sale, the mines in which they are raised, and the quantity of 
which they consist. The head of every column has the 
printed name of some particular company, and the whole of 
it is filled up by the agent of this company, with the prices he, 
on the behalf of his employers, has to offer for the lots; which 
prices are specified in a regular range from the top to the 
bottom of the external column, standing respectively against 
the different lots. Having delivered these schedules in, 
which contain the ultimatum of their offers, they are then 
compared with each other, and the bidders of the highest 
prices are immediately declared the purchasers of the several 
lots. Should however the same price be offered for the same 
lot, by two or more bidders, it is then equally divided be- 
tween the rivals. All this business is transacted in silence, 
and with dispatch; so that bargains for 20,000/. worth of 
copper ore are compleated in the course of half an hour, 
without a single word being spoken on the subject of the 
sale or purchase. 



t 289 J 

war, yet it must not be concealed, that it is partly 
attributable also to the two following causes: the 
increased produce of the Cornish mines, and the 
large importations of foreign copper. 

The very high price to which the metal had risen, 
both induced and enabled the miners to speculate 
more largely than they had been accustomed hitherto 
to do. The consequence of this was, a supply more 
than sufficient for all the demands of the British 
market ; and a fall in the price of the ore naturally 
followed. Unfortunately for Cornwall, just at the 
period of this depression, very large quantities of cop- 
per from South-America were taken by the British 
cruizers, and the prizes brought to England; whilst at 
the same time, or shortly after, considerable importa- 
tions of the same article arrived from Lima, and other 
places in South-America, the speculations of British 
merchants to these parts under licenses from the 
English and Spanish governments. Such a com- 
bination of circumstances would of course influence 
the home price of copper, and it actually expe- 
rienced an immediate reduction ; though as they 
were mostly accidental, and as they had the effect of 
suspending the working of several mines, the pro- 
prietors flatter themselves with the expectation that 
the price of Cornish copper will again look up> (to 
use a mining phrase,) and this, Jike every other 

u 



[ 290 ] 

article, again find itslevel, as soon as the effefts of 
this unnatural glut shall have passed away. 

It is unnecessary for me to enumerate the differ- 
ent species of copper which the mines of Cornwall 
afford ; it may be sufficient to say, that you here 
find every variety of this ore, except muriat of copper y 
which as yet has been discovered only in South- 
America, I have before observed that of all the 
Cornish copper works, Dolcooth is the largest; 
though many of them employ six hundred men, 
besides a large tribe of women and children. The 
principal mines now at work are as follow : Huel 
Damsel, Huel Unity, Poldice, the Consolidated 
Mines, Huel Fortune, Huel Jewel, and Huel 
Gorland, in Gwennap ; Huel To wan, in St. Agnes ; 
Dolcooth, in Camborn ; Huel Fanny, and Cook^s 
Kitchen, in Ulogan ; Godolphin, and Benner Downs, 
in Breage and Crowan ; Huel Alfred, near Heyl ; 
and Penberthy Crofts, and West Huel Fortune, near 
Marazion. 

Before I quit the subject of Cornish Mineralogy, 
1 must detain you a little longer with a few particu- 
lars respecting the other metallic productions of this 
curious county. 

Gold is found native in Cornwall, but in such 
small quantities as not to deserve the attention of the 
owners of the mines. The workmen take it as their 



[ 291 ] 

perquisite, and sell the specimens to collectors. The 
value of the whole annual produce seldom reaches 
ioo/. The Carnan and other stream tin works (for 
it has never appeared in any of the lodes) are the 
only places which produce it ; where it is discovered 
in grains from the size of fine sand to masses 
(though very rarely) worth three or four guineas a 
piece. It is sometimes mixed with quartz. 

Silver also is produced in Cornwall. The largest 
quantity ever found of this metal was raised in Her- 
land copper mine, about ten years ago ; and might 
be worth between 6 or 700/. It was dug up at the 
depth of 1 00 fathoms, in a lode which intersected 
the copper vein nearly at right angles. About 
fifteen years since, a few small bunches of exceed- 
ingly rich silver ore (particularly horn silver, or 
muriat of silver, and a very rare mineral) were 
raised in Cubert parish. Many of these pieces were 
finely crystallized ; but the most beautiful specimen 
is in the cabinet of Mr. John Williams, and has been 
represented and described in that elegant work of 
Mr. James Sowerby, the " British Mineralogy, for 
the year 1808." Native silver also, vitrious silver 
ore, red silver ore, and black silver ore, have been 
found in Herland mine, in the parish of Gwinear j 
and horn silver in the Mexico mine. The latter 
may have produced about 2000/. worth of silver, 

u 2 



[ 292 ] 

but with no profit to the adventurers. These mines 
have been discontinued several years. It is worth 
observation, that the silver as well as lead lodes of 
Cornwall run from north to south ; inclining, or as 
miners call it, underlaying to the east or west ; a 
direction altogether opposite to the copper and tin 
lodes, which run from east to west, and generally 
underlie to the north or south. 

Iron, in rich lodes of red and brown ore, is pro- 
duced in several parts of Cornwall, but sought after 
in none ; owing to the great expense of smelting it, 
there being no coal in the county. Iron pyrites 
occurs in great quantities in most of the veins of 
copper - 7 as well as magnetical iron ore at Penzance, 
and specular iron ore at Tincroft mine, in Ulogan, 
Botollack mine, near the Land's End, and other 
places. 

Lead is not at present anobjeft of search in 
Cornwall. Within these last twenty years mines of 
this metal have been worked to considerable extent 
near Helston ; and furnaces were erected for smelt- 
ing the ore; but the mines after a few years becom- 
ing poor, and little profit arising from them to the 
adventurer, they were given up. A similar specu- 
lation was undertaken upon a smaller scale inthe 
parish of Cubert, and shortly after relinquished on 
account of the same ill success. Small bunches of 



[ m \ 

galasna, or sulphuret of lead, often occur in the cop- 
per lodes ; and specimens of carbonat, phosphate 
and sulphat of the same, are now and then found. 

Respecting the Semi-metals of Cornwall the fol- 
lowing information will not, perhaps, be unaccept- 
able to you : 

Native Bismuth is found here, but not in sufficient 
quantity to make it an article of commerce. 

Antimony. Sulphuret or grey ore of this semi- 
metal occurs near Port Isaac, on the North coast, 
and is exported from thence to London ; where it 
is used in casting types, and purchased by the che- 
mists for medicinal preparations. Oxyde of and" 
mony is also found at the same place. 

Cobalt. The Wherry mine, when worked, pro- 
duced white cobalt ore ; and Dolcooth, both white 
and grey. The quantity raised at the latter has 
amounted to several tons, but the workmen being 
unacquainted with the art of treating it, no use has 
been made of the ore, though it might be turned to 
account, as it is in request to impart a blue^int to 
porcelain and glass. Black oxyde of copper has 
also been found. 

Manganese. All the varieties of this ore are 
produced in the Cornish manganese mines ; which 
chiefly belong to the Williams's, of Scorrier House, 
and the Foxes, of Falmouth. The principal of 



[ 294 ] 

these lie near Callington. They are very valuable, 
the arts being much indebted to the assistance of 
this ore in various of their processes ; such as, 
bleaching linen and paper j* giving the violet colour 
to glass, and the black hue to Wedgwood ware. 

Arsenic. Arsenical Pyrites, both massive and cris- 
tallized, occurs in many of the copper mines in 
Gwennap, Illogan, &c. 

Scheele. Wolfram, massive and crystallized, is 
found in Poldice, and other mines in Gwennap, and 
at Ketchill, near Callington. 

Uranite. All the varieties of this semi-metal are 
produced at Carharrach, Huel Gorland, Tolcarne, 
and Huel Unity. 

Menacanite. Of this I have already made mention. 

Molybdana is found in very small quantities at 
Huel Unity, in Gwennap. 

Of the mineral crystallizations peculiar to Corn- 
wall, the following, I believe, is a pretty correct list. 



* The bleaching liquor prepared from manganese is used 
for bleaching the rags with which the paper is made. It 
renders the brownest rags perfectly white, and fit for making 
the finest paper. It is well known to be capable of whitening 
paper after being manufactured 5 but it is not used by paper- 
makers for that purpose, 



[ 295 ] 

All the varieties of Arseniate of Copper, described 
by Count de Bournon, and analyzed by Chenevix, 
published in the Transactions of the Royal Society 
for the year 1801 ; found at Huel Gorland and 
Huel Unity. 

Arseniate of Copper ; of the olive green colour, 
found at Carharrack mine. 

Arseniate of Iron, crystallized in cubes, found at 
the same place. 

Wood tin found in several stream works, more par- 
ticularly in the parish of St. Stephen's, and on the 
Goss moors, near Bodmin. 

To these should be added a schedule of the very 
rare, though not peculiar crystallizations. 

Horn Silver, mentioned before. 

Red Copper Ore, crystallized in perfect cubes, 
o&oedrons and dodecaedrons, with the intermediate 
passages. 

Copper Pyrites, or yellow copper ore, in perfect 
tetraedrons, dodecaedrons, &c. from North-Down 
mines, in the parish of Redruth ; Tincroft mine, in 
Illogan, &c- 

Sulphuret of Copper, or vitreous copper ore, crystal- 
lized in six-sided prisms, with and without double six- 
sided pyramids, hexangular tables, and double hexan- 
gular pyramids, &c. from Cook's Kitchen, Dolcooth, 
Tincruft, Crevor, and Godolphin mines. 



[ $96 ] 

Grey Copper Ore, crystallized, in tetraedrons and 
decaedrons, with the intermediate passage of crys- 
tallization ; from Huel Jewel, in Gwennap. 

Variegated or Purple Copper Ore, crystallized, in 
cubes, from Dolcooth and Huel Jewel. 

Sulphur et of Tin, or Tin Pyrites \ from St. Agnes 
and St. Stephen's parishes. 

Carbonat of Lead, crystallized in hexangular 
prisms, with and without hexangular pyramids - 9 from 
North Downs, Huel Unity, and Huel Rose. 

Sulphat of Lead, crystallized, o&oedral, &c. from 
a mine near HeyL 

OxydeofUranite, crystallized, in cubes, four-sided 
tables, &c. from Carharrack, Tolcarne, and Huel 
Gorland mines. 

Blende, crystallized, in perfe& tetraedrons, o&oe- 
drons, cubes, &c. from St. Agnes parish. 

Grey Ore of Antimony, described by Count de 
Bournon, exceedingly rare. 

Hydrophanous Opal, from Huel Clinton, in 
Gwennap. 

Topaz, crystallized, white and yellow, an oxyde of 
tin,- from St. Agnes parish. 

Felspar, crystallized, in rhombs, &c. from Pol- 
gooth, Penandrea, in Redruth, and Roselobly 
mines, in Gwennap. 



[ $97 ] 

Fluor 9 crystallized, in o&oedrons, cubes with trun- 
cated corners, also in crystals of twenty-four sides. 



As the miners of Cornwall form so considerable 
a part of the population of the mining country, they 
would of course attract our attention, and we 
observed a few circumstances in their character as a 
body, which appeared to distinguish them from ail 
other tribes of workmen that had before fallen 
under our notice. These peculiarities naturally 
arise from the nature of their employment, which is 
altogether unlike that of the labouring classes in 
general throughout the kingdom. I believe I have 
before observed, that the expense of sinking the 
shafts, and cutting the adits, or courses by which 
part of the water is drained from the mines, lies with 
the adventurers, who furnish also the machinery for 
the works. The lode is then taken by the miners on 
tribute, as it is called, or in other words, on specu- 
lation ; an agreement by which they undertake to 
drive the vein and raise the ore, (finding their own 
*tools, candles, gunpowder, &c.) on the condition of 
their receiving a certain proportion of the profits on 
the copper or tin produced and sold, be it little or 
much $ a proportion which is determined and ac- 



[ 298 ] 

counted for every month. This circumstance of the 
uncertainty of their gains has a marked effect upon 
their character. The activity which hope inspires 
keeps their spirits in an agreeable agitation, ren- 
ders their minds lively and alert, and prevents that 
dulness which generally characterizes the English 
labourer. Should success crown their speculation, 
it is needless to say that joy is the result ; but if it 
terminate otherwise, the expectation of a more for- 
tunate take holds out its never-failing consolations to 
them, and the charm of perspective good fortune 
quickly banishes all the gloom of present disappoint- 
ment. They cannot be distressed by want, as the 
adventurers always make an advance to them after an 
unlucky attempt, to provide immediate necessaries for 
themselves and families; and thus relieved from a care 
which deadens all the energies of a common labourer 
under misfortune, and bows him down to the dusr, 
they proceed to a second experiment with unabated 
ardour, and undiminished spirits. As their profits 
are regulated by proportions, and determined by 
calculations, their interest naturally leads them to 
become conversant with numbers ; and there are 
scarcely any of them who are not acquainted with 
the lower branches of arithmetic. The various ma- 
chinery too employed in the mines directs their 
attention so much to the mechanical powers, that it 



[ 299 ] 

is rare to meet with a good miner who is not also a 
decent practical geometrician. They are men ako of 
very correct judgment, particularly on the subject of 
their own work 5 a faculty of peculiar importance to 
them in appreciating their labour, when it is to be 
performed at settled wages. By a recollection and 
Comparison of the results of former experience, 
when a miner is taken to a spot to sink a shaft* he 
knows at a glance at what rate per fathom he ought 
to be paid for his labour, and makes his agreement 
accordingly ; a bargain that is seldom found to give 
any disproportionate advantage either to his employ- 
ers or himself. The moral habits of the miners are 
not less respectable, in general, than their intellec- 
tual ones. We were told, by the most unquestion- 
able authority, that they are civil and respectful in 
their manners, and sober and decent in their conduct. 
Early marriage, that surest guardian of virtue, and 
best spur of honest industry, is very general amongst 
the Cornish miners, and naturally introduces with 
it continence, regularity, and domestic habits. In- 
stances of ebriety will of course occasionally occur, 
amongst such numbers ; but drunkenness is by no 
means a practice with them. Their chief beverages 
are water and tea, of which they are so fond, that 
many of them drink it with their dinners. They 
live in cottages, either rented, or erected by them- 



[ soo ] 

selves ; for as soon as a miner has saved a link: 
from the profits of his labour, he incloses a small 
piece of waste land, builds a tenement, plants a 
pittance of ground for a garden, and becomes pro- 
prietor of the spot on which he dwells. Here he 
lives upon his gains, (which, when copper sells well, 
may amount, upon an average, to about 5/. per 
month,) in comfort, and generally with credit 5 if 
not an object of envy, one at least which the politi- 
cal ceconomist may contemplate with improvement, 
the moralist with pleasure, and the philanthropist 
with delight. Nor let it be forgotten, that the reli- 
gious sentiment is pretty universally diffused amongst 
them, producing those good fruits of quiet, decency, 
and order, which will inevitably more or less accom- 
pany a knowledge of its sublime truths and awful 
sanctions. The cold and feeble infidel, with iron 
heart and leaden head, may perhaps smile at this 
description of the effects of a principle, which his 
bosom has never felt, and which his intellect cannot 
distinctly comprehend; but could he see amongst the 
miners of Cornwall habits of inordinance fading 
away before its purifying influence, cruel practices 
vanquished by its gentle inspirations, and the whole 
character humanized, dignified, and exalted, under 
its soul-subduing power, he would at lease cease to 
deride, if his prejudices would not suffer him to 



[ 301 ] 

respefl, a Revelation which is capable of imparting 
such improvement to the nature of man. The cus- 
toms which, some years ago, brutalized the miners 
of Cornwall, and kept them in a state little better 
than that of savages, are now, in a great measure, 
exploded ; the desperate wrestling matches, for 
prizes, that frequently terminated in death or mutila- 
tion ; the inhuman cock-fights, which robbed the 
miners of what little feeling they possesed, and often 
left them plunged in debt and ruin; the pitched 
battles which were fought between the workmen of 
different mines or different parishes, and constantly 
ended in blood ; and the riotous revelings held on 
particular days, when the gains of labour were 
always dissipated in the most brutal debauchery, are 
now of very rare occurrence, and will probably, in 
the course of a few years, be only remembered in 
tradition; the spots where these scenes of disorder 
were held, being now inclosed, and a great part of 
them covered with the habitations of the miners. 
You will naturally enquire who have been the imme- 
diate instruments of so much good, in a district so 
unlikely to exhibit such gratifying appearances? and. 
I feel that I am but doing justice to a class of people, 
much, though undeservedly calumniated, when I 
I answer, the Weskian Methodists. With a zeal 



[ 302 ] 

that ought to put to the blush men of higher preten* 
sions, these indefatigable servants of their master 
have penetrated into the wilds of the mines, and, 
unappalledby danger or difficulty, careless of abuse 
or derision, and inflexible in the good work they 
had undertaken, they have perseveringly taught, 
gradually reclaimed, and at length, I may almost 
venture to say, completely reformed a large body 
of men, who, without their exertions, would pro- 
bably have still been immersed in the deepest spirit- 
ual darkness, and the grossest moral turpitude. 
6C The irreligious fools of the world," and the inte- 
rested asserters of exclusive establishment privileges, 
would probably consider this tribute of praise to 
the Wesleian Methodists, as the dotage of enthu- 
siasm, or the cant of disaffection j but from you, I 
may expect a more favourable conclusion. In your 
heart there is a corresponding chord, which will 
vibrate with pleasure at the view of so ample an 
harvest of good, whoever may have been the labour- 
ers employed in sowing the seed ; and will be ready 
to bear grateful testimony to that exemplary zeal 
which, under the sanction of higher auspices, has 
been the means of producing it. 

Amongst a large body of men, confined almost 
entirely to the company of each other, and engaged 



f 303 ] 

in labours constantly associated with danger* and 
darkness, we expected to have found many super- 
stitious notions, the natural offspring of the awful 
operating upon ignorance. In this, however, we were 
disappointed. The miners of Cornwall are free 
from the shackles of these terrors of the imagination; 
and the only remnants of superstition which we dis- 
covered amongst them, were, a careful abstaining from 
whistling when under ground, and a firm belief in the 
efficacy of the Virgula Divinitoria, or Divining Rod. 
In regard to whistling, it may be observed, that the 
dislike to it does not seem peculiar to their profes- 
sion. Sailors, you know, when on board ship, 
avoid this practice with the utmost caution, except 
when they have recourse to it with the superstitious 
view of calling a wind to their assistance by its 
influence; at all other times they consider it as 



* The accidents most common amongst the miners arc 
those arising from blasting the rock with gunpowder. Upon 
enquiry, however, at the consolidated mines of Huel Unity 
and Poldice, where the ground is hard, and frequently shot, 
as it is called, there did not appear to be, upon an average, 
more than one accident in every hundred men, during the 
course of the year. A noble Infirmary at Truro receives 
all the unfortunate miners who suffer such casualties \ as 
well as all other poor labouring men who are disabled by 
accident or disease. 



[ 304 ] 

inauspicious. It would be curious to investigate the 
cause of such associations being connected with a 
very innocent and sprightly kind of natural melody; 
I must leave this, however, to the researches of 
others, and in the mean time confess myself totally 
unable to detect its reason, or trace its original. 

The virtues of the Virgula, or Divining Rod, are 
acknowledged by other miners as well as those of 
Cornwall. I remember some years ago having heard 
them positively asserted amongst the people em- 
ployed in the lapis calaminaris mines of Mendip, 
who would as soon have doubted the power of gun- 
powder in blasting the rock, as the influence of this 
magical wand in pointing out the invisible course of 
mineral veins. It must be observed, however, that 
implicit credit is not given to the virtue of the Vir- 
gulaby #//the persons concerned in the Cornish mines; 
most of the workmen are firm believers in it; but 
many of the captains are sceptical ; and all the propri- 
etors absolute infidels in this respect. The use of it is 
of great antiquity in foreign countries, though it was 
introduced into this only in Queen Anne's reign by 
a Spaniard, named Capt. Ribeira, who deserted from 
the service of his country, and was made Captain 
Commandant of the garrison of Plymouth. The 
efficacy which it appeared to possess in his hands 
soon made it a popular instrument in all the English 



[ S05 ] 

, mining counties, and as implicit faith accompanied 
its use, so those accidental discoveries which it was 
impossible should not occasionally occur in distri&s 
interse&ed by lodes, to persons who tried the coun- 
try with it, served to increase its credit ; whilst the 
disappointments or mistakes which more frequently 
attended its operations, were ever put to the account 
of the Virgula being irregularly made, improperly 
held, or the person carrying it not being one in 
whose hands it would a£r. As lately as thirty years 
ago the reputation of this magical wand continued to 
be unblemished, and its claims undiminished in the 
West of England ; and Pryce, one of the most scien- 
tific and experienced miners of Cornwall, was an 
inflexible believer in its extraordinary erlefrs. He 
has given us the following account of its construc- 
tion and use: — " The rods formerly used, were 
<c shoots of one year's growth that grew forked ; 
"but it is found, that two separate shoots tied 
" together with some vegetable substance, as pack- 
" thread, will answer rather better than those which 
** are grown forked, as their shoots being seldom of 
" equal length or bigness they do not handle so well 
" as the others, which may be chosen of exactly the 
" same size. The shape of the rod thus prepared, 
" will be between two and a half and three feu 
w long. They must be tied together at their great 

x 



[ 306 ] 

" or root ends, the smaller being to be held in the 
" hands. Hazel rods cut in the winter, such as are 
" used for fishing-rods, and kept till they are dry, 
" do best ; though where these are not at hand, 
" apple-tree suckers, rods from peach-trees, currants, 
"or the oak, though green, will answer tolerably 
"well, 

" It is very difficult to describe the manner of 
" holding and using the rod : it ought to be held in 
" the hands, the smaller ends lying flat or parallel to 
" the horizon, and the upper part in an elevation 
" not perpendicular to it, but seventy degrees. 

"The rod being properly held by those with 
" whom it will answer, when the toe of the right 
" foot is within the semi-diameter of the piece of metal 
" or other subject of the rod, it will be repelled 
" towards the face, and continue to be so, while the 
" foot is kept from touching or being directly over 
" the subject; in which case, it will be sensibly and 
" strongly attracted, and be drawn quite down. 
" The rod should be firmly and steadily grasped ; 
" for if, when it hath begun to be attracted there be 
. " the least imaginable jerk, or opposition to its 
" attraction, it will not move any more, till the 
" hands are opened and a fresh grasp taken. The 
" stronger the grasp, the livelier the rod moves, 
" provided the grasp be steady, and of an equal- 



t 307 ] 

« c strength. This observation is very necessary^ 
" as the operation of the rod in many hands is 
" defeated purely by a jerk or counter action ; and 
<c it is from tjience concluded, there is no real efficacy 
tc in the rod, or that the person who holds it wants 
<c the virtue ; whereas by a proper attention to this 
cc circumstance in using it, five persons in six have 
" the virtue as it is called ; that is, the nut or fruit 
<c bearing rod will answer in their hands. When 
" the rod is drawn down, the hands must be opened, 
" the rod raised by the middle fingers, a fresh grasp 
" taken, and the rod held again in the direction 
" described. 

" A little practice by a person in earnest about it, 
cc will soon give him the necessary adroitness in the 
" use of this instrument ; but it must be particularly 
€i observed, that as our animal spirits are necessary 
" to this process, so a man ought to hold the rod 
" with the same indifference and inattention to, or 
" reasoning about it, or its effects, as he holds a 
tc fishing-rod or a walking-stick; for if the mind be 
<c occupied by doubts, reasoning, or any other; 
" operation that engages the animal spirits, it will 
<c divert their powers from being exerted in this 
" process, in which their instrumentality is abso- 
lutely necessary ; from hence it is that the rod 
" constantly answers in the hands of peasants^ 

X 2 



[ 308 ] 

£C women, and children, who hold it simply without 
" puzzling their minds with doubts or reasonings. 
" Whatever may be thought of this observation, it 
" is a very just one, and of great consequnce in the 
" practice of the rod. 

" If a rod, or the least piece of one, of the nut 
" bearing or fruit kind, be put under the arm, it 
<c will totally destroy the operation of the Virgula 
<c Divinatoria in regard to all the subje&s of it, ex- 
" cept water, in those hands in which the rod natu- 
f c rally operates. If the least animal thread, as silk, 
<c or worsted, or hair, be tied round or fixed on the 
" top of the rod, it will ..in like manner hinder its 
" operation; but the same rod placed under the 
ec arm, or the same animal substances tied round or 
" fixed on the top of the rod, will make it work in 
* ( those hands, in- which, without these additions, it 
" is not attracted. 

" The willow, and other rods, that will not an- 
" swer in the hands in which the fruit or nut bear- 
" ing rods attracted, will answer in those hands in 
* c which the others will not ; so that all persons 
" using suitable rods in a proper manner, have the 
" virtue as it is called of the rod. A piece of the 
" same willow placed under the arm, or the silk, 
" worsted, or hair, bound round, or fixed to the top 
" of it, will make it answer with those to whom the 



[ 309 ] 

4C nut or fruit bearing rods are naturally suitable* 
" and in whose hands, without those additions, it 
" would not answer. 

" All rods, in all hands, answer to springs of 
" water. 

" If a rod is wanted for distinguishing copper or 
< c gold, procure filings of iron, lead, and tin, some 
" leaf silver, chalk in powder, coal in powder, and 
" rasped bones : let a hole be bored with a small 
c( gimblet in the top of the rod ; then mix the least 
"imaginable quantity of the above ingredients, and 
" put it in the gimblet hole with a peg of the same 
" wood with the rod, when it will only be attracted 
cc by what is left out, viz. gold and copper. 

" In preparing a rod for distinguishing the white 
" metals, leave out the lead, tin, and leaf silver, and 
" add copper filings to the other ingredients 5 and 
" so of every subject by which you would have the 
w rod attracted, the respective filings or powder 
" must be left out of the mixture which is to be 
" put into the hole at the top of the rod. As for 
<c coal and bones, they may be omitted in the dis- 
" tinguishing rods that are used in Cornwall, for 
" obvious reasons : but it is necessary to put in the 
" chalk or lime ; for though there is no limestone in 
* c the mining part of the county, yet there are abun- 
4t dance of strata that draw the rod as limestone 5 



[ 310 I 

" for the distinction of a dead or a live course, holds 
" as well in regard to limestone, as to the metals. 
<c This, however paradoxical it may appear, is a 
" truth easily to be proved ; and it is one axiom in 
" the science of the rod, that it makes no distinction 
" between the living and dead parts of a course. 
" Like the lodestone, it only shews the course, leav- 
" ing the success of the undertaking to the fortune, 
" skill, and management of the miner ; as the lode- 
* € stone doth that of the voyage, to the fortune, 
" ability, and prudence of the mariner and merchant. 
*' The rod being guarded against all subjects ex- 
€C cept that which you want to discover, as tin and 
* c copper, for example ; walk steadily and slowly on 
** with it ; and a person that hath been accustomed 
u to carry it, will meet with a single repulsion and 
* c attraction, every three, four, or five yards, which 
*< must not be heeded, it being only from the water 
cc that is between every bed of killas, grouan, or 
« c other strata. When the holder approaches a 
" lode so near as its semi-diameter, the rod feels 
*' loose in the hands, and is very sensibly repelled 
<c toward the face ; if it be thrown back so far as 
4C to touch the hat, it must be brought forward to 
* c its usual elevation, when it will continue to be 
" repelled till the foremost foot is over the edge 
^ of the lode ; when this is the case, if the rod 



[ 311 ] 

€t is held well, there will first be a small repulsion 
<c towards the face ; but this is momentary ; and 
<c the rod will be immediately drawn irresistibly 
< c down, and will continue to be so in the whole 
cc passage over the lode ; but as soon as the tore- 
" most foot is beyond its limits, the attraction from 
c; the hindmost foot, which is still on the lode, 
" or else the repulsion on the other side, or both, 
* s throw the rod back toward the face. The dis- 
<c tance from the point where the attraction begun, 
<c and where it ended, is the breadth of the lode ; or 
* e rather of a horizontal section of the bryle or back 
<c just under the earth. We must then turn, and 
<c trace it on obliquely, or in the way of zig-zag, as 
" far as may be thought necessary. 

" In the course of this tracing a lode, all the cir- 
*' cumstances of it, so far as they relate to its back, 
" will be discovered ; as its breadth at different 
" places, its being squeezed together by hard strata, 
iC its being cut off and thrown aside from its regular 
" course by a cross-gossan, &c." 

We were told, it is true, many stories to confirm 
the above surprizing accounts of the powers of the 
Virgula Divinatoria ; but none of them were of suffi- 
cient weight to make us converts to a faith in its 
virtues ; and we came away from our informants in 
much the same temper of mind as Johnson left the 



[ 312 ] 

reporters of the second sight faculty, rather willing to 
believe, than actually convinced that what we had 
heard had any foundation in truth. 

When we quitted Truro, we relinquished ary 
further underground researches, and determined to 
confine ourselves for the remainder of our journey to 
the external face of nature. We were now, indeed, 
at every step leaving the principal mining 'country 
behind us, and getting into districts where objects of 
a far different nature engaged the busy attention of 
man, and more certain, but less splendid profits were 
sought for, in the cultivation of the surface of the 
ground. One farewell view of the southern coast 
remained to us from a rising ground two or three 
miles from Truro. Here we caught sight of the 
noble harbour of Falmouth ; and its bold termina- 
tion, the promontory of Pendennis, crested by the 
turrets of its castle, which from this distance 
assumed a most august appearance. We beheld it 
with that lingering gaze which is natural when we 
take a parting look at a pleasing object; and then 
bade adieu to it probably for ever. 

The shabby village of St. Erme would probably 
have been passed by us without notice, had we not 
been told that it was remarkable for the largest cattle 
emporium in Cornwall. Here the graziers from the 
PQrth of Cornwall bring their beasts to the fair, 



[ 313 ] 

which is held in the month of September ; and in the 
course of a few hours, a transfer of property, to 
the amount of many thousand pounds, is made in 
a place, where, from its appearance, one would as 
soon expect to see a mermaid as a guinea. I must 
except, however, the halcyon time of an election, 
when I presume St. Erme, like all other places in 
Cornwall, so happily privileged as itself, is inundated 
with the wages of corruption. Not, however, in 
the same degree with another dirty village that we 
passed through, which, from the monstrous venality 
of its voters, is denominated Sodom ; whilst its 
neighbouring borough, from a similar cause, has 
obtained the equally honourable name of Gomor- 
rah ! — mortifying reflection to a Briton, whose chief 
political boast is that grand feature of the constitu- 
tion of his country, which distinguishes and exalts 
it amongst the other governments of the world — » 
Popular Representation** 



* The following little history of the origin of the Cornish 
boroughs is curious and entertaining : — " And now I am 
" engaged in this subject, it will not be foreign to the his- 
" tory of Cornwall, to enquire into the original of this so 
" much envied privilege, of sending a great number of re- 
t( presentatives to the House of Commons, from so small a 
" county, and from boroughs mostly so inconsiderable as to 



[ 314 ] 

We were led half a mile to the right, just before 
we entered St. Columb, to look at a rude structure 



lt trade, inhabitants, and every thing that can entitle place* 
6< to distinction ; whilst several towns in England, much 
Si superior in all respects, haye never been admitted to the 
*' same honour. 

" This pre-eminence of our county is not ancient. From 
* e the 23d of Edward I. five boroughs only, (viz. Lanceston, 
tc Liskerd, Truro, Bodmin,, and Helston,) sent two members 
" each, and the county two. Lostwythiel has held the same 
*' privilege from the 4th of Edward II. and sent two mem- 
* r bers once before, viz. in the 33d Edward I. These arc 
" our only sis ancient boroughs, and the number was neither 
" diminished nor increased, till the 6th of Edward VI. ex- 
** eepting only in one instance, which, shall be taken notice 
** of in the sequel. 

" At this time (viz. in the latter end of the reign of Ed- 
ie ward VI.) seven other boroughs, viz. Saltash, Camelford, 
* c West-Loo, Granpont, Tindagel, Michel, and Newport, 
,c were permitted to send up two members each. 

" In the 1 st of Mary, Penryn, and in the 4th and 5th of 
** the same reign, St. Ives, had the like privilege. 

" In the 1 st of Elizabeth,Tregeny was admitted ; in the 5th, 
* St. German's and St. Maw's ; in the 13th, East-Loo and 
: < Fawyj and in the 2/th of that reign, Gallington5 making 
i( up the number of twenty-one boroughs, which with the 
" county, return to parliament forty-four members. 

<c The reason of this modern addition to the boroughs of 
w this county, may, I think, best appear from considering that 



C 315 ] 

of stones, called a Coif, similar to the one I have 
before described. Borlase attributes this and such 



f< the dutchy of Cornwall (then in the crown and .oftener so 
« than separated from it) yields in tin and lands an hereditary 
'*' revenue, much superior to what the crown has in any 
*' county in England, and that eight of these boroughs had 
<( either an immediate or remote connection with the de- 
*f mesne lands of this dutchy, a link formerly of much stricter 
te union and higher command than at present. Four other 
< c boroughs depended on or wholly belonged to religious 
tc houses which fell to the crown at the dissolution of monas- 
<( teries, in the reign of Henry VIII. For instance, New- 
* f port rose with Lanceston priory, and with it fell to the 
" crown. Penryn depended much on the rich college of 
" Glasney and its lands j the manor also was alienated by 
** Edward VI. but restored by Queen Mary, and the town 
<c privileged by her. St. German's was (after Bodmin) the 
et chief priory in Cornwall, and the borough of Fawy fell 
" to the crown with the priory of Trewardraith, to which it 
<( belonged. 

t( The other boroughs remain to be taken notice of. Mi- 
" chel belonged to the rich and highly-allied family of the 
" Arundels of Lanhearne, and.. St. Ives and Callington to the 
" family of Pawlet, (Marquis of Winchester, now Duke of 
" Bolton,) by marrying the heiress of Willoughby Lord 
t( Brook, some time of New ton- Ferrers in this county. Now 
<( these several connections of the additional boroughs may 
" point out to us the rise of this privilege. 

" Henry VII. reduced the power of the ancient Lords, and 
" consequently advanced that of the Commons : Henry VIII, 



[ S16 3 

like stru&ures to the Druids, who raised them as 
sepulchral monuments, to secure and surround the 



cc enriched many of the Commons with church-lands ; and in 
cc - the latter end of the reign of Edward VI. the Duke of 
« e Nortburnbarland could not but perceive of what conse- 
«* quence it was to his ambitious schemes to have a majority 
*• in the House of Commons 3 and Cornwall seems to have 

* been pitched upon as the most proper scene for this stretch 
" of the prerogative, because of the large property and con- 
*' sequently influence of the dutchy : Sis towns therefore 
" deluding on the dutchy and church-lands, and one 
" borough of a powerful family, were indulged to send four- 
**' teen members. The ministry of those days were not so' 
ie defective in artifice as not to oblige powerful lords now 
c < and then with the same indulgence which they granted to 
" these boroughs, thereby endeavouring either to reconcile 
** them to their administration, or to make this guilty in- 
** crease of the prerogative less invidious. Queen Mary, in 
" her short reign, (probably from the sarn^ motives,) admit* 
ttr ted two more 5 and Queen Elizabeth, who never rejected 
w any political precedent which might confirm her power^ 

* (though always, it must be owned, exerting that power for 
< c the prosperity of her people, as well as her own glory,) 
« admitted six other boroughs. 

♦' The only instances which could give the least colour of 
" justice to these proceedings, were few and weak. The 
r « borough of Tregeny sent burgesses indeed twice, viz. in 
" the 23d and 35th of Edward I. but no more till the 1st of 
*« Elizabeth. East-Loo and Fawy sent one and the same 
« merchant, then called a ship-owner, to a council at West- 



[ sir ] 

remains of the departed from the destructive violence 
of the weather, and the impious rage of enemies 9 



" minster, (not to parliament,) in the 14th of Edward III. 
f< Of these, however, Queen Elizabeth laid hold for ths 
(f more specious promoting her designs : In her first year 
ec she revived the claims of Tregeny ; in the 5th of her reign, 
t{ c Burgesses being returned for St. Jermyne's and St. Mawi 
" ''in Cornwall, Mr. Speaker declared in the House, that the 
" c Lord-Steward agreed they should resort unto the House, 
** * and with convenient speed, to shew their letters-patents 
" ' why they be returned in this parliament :' e But they 
" ' were no farther questioned,' (says Dr. Willis, ib. p. 16S,) 
** c the Queen's inclinations being well understood/ 

" In the 13th Elizabeth both East-Loo and Fawy elected two 
<x members, which being taken notice of and examined into, 
" ' Report was made by the House of the validity of the bur- 
" c gesses, and it was ordered, by the Attorney-general's assent, 
'/ * that the burgesses shall remain according to their returns; 
" ' for that the validity of the charters is elsewhere to be ex- 
<e ' amined, if cause be :' e By which means,' says Dr. Willis, 
tf (ib. p. 102,) e little or no dispute being made against the 
** ' Queen's power, the House became greatlj' increased with 
** ' representatives, especially by the sending of burgesses 
*' e from those boroughs.' 

" Nor was it any objection, I imagine, to their sending up 
u members, that these boroughs had little trade, few inha- 
'* bitants, and those poor and of no eminence ; these circum- 
" stances in all likelihood did rather promote than prevent 
es their being privileged, as rendering them more tradable 



[ 318 ] 

and to preserve their memory by such a laboured 
testimony of respeft. They are evidently of Celtic 



tc and dependant than if they had been large and opulent 
" towns, inhabited by persons of trade, rank, and discernment. 
cc It is true, indeed, these places so summoned were old 
iC boroughs (in the legal acceptation of the word), that is, 
" had immunities granted them by their Princes or Lords, 
" exemptions from services in other courts, privileges of 
*<" exercising trades, of electing officers within , their own 
sc district, and invested with the property of lands, mills, 
" fairs, &c. paying annually a certain chief or fee-farm rent ; 
" most of them also were parts of the ancient demesnes of the 
fC crown, and had been either in the crown or in the royal 
ei blood from the Norman Conquest, and by passing to and 
" from the crown often, and their privileges constantly 
" reserved and confirmed at every transfer, these towns had 
f< acquired a kind of nominal dignity, bat were in every 
ec other light inconsiderable, and no ways entitled to the 
€c power of sending members to parliament, much less in 
u preference to so many more populous communities in the 
" other parts of England." — Borlases Nat. Hist. p. 30p, 312. 

As Cornwall can boast the tutelage of more saints, and the 
return of more members of parliament, than any other county 
in England, so may it hold out a claim to a larger number of 
country hauliers than any district of similar population with 
itself. We were told there are fifty-six of these firms in the 
county j of which Truro produces six, and the little town of 
Penzance nine ! 



I 319 ] 

origin, from their being found in all countries uni- 
versally allowed to be peopled by this tribe; in 
Cornwall, Wales, Anglesey, Scotland, Ireland, and 
the British isles. 

St. Columb did not give us more favourable im- 
pressions of the Cornish towns than we had before 
entertained ; being straggling, narrow, and paved 
with execrable pebbles, which, from the town 
stretching down a long descent, may be considered 
as forming a very dangerous road. It is suffi- 
ciently satisfied with itself, however, as it possesses 
the envied right of returning members to the senate. 
We had been too much disgusted with prior speci- 
mens of Cornish representation to enquire in how 
few a number the ele&ive franchise was vested. 

As it was our intention to include some antiqui- 
ties in our way to Padstow, we took a circuitous 
route to that place, and turned into the Wadebridge 
road, where we reached the summit of the hill that 
was to the north of St. Columb. Here our atten- 
tion was soon caught by Castle Andinas, a noble 
entrenchment situated on the loftiest point cf a bold 
eminence to the right. We found it a place of pro- 
digious strength ; originally fortified with three cir- 
cular walls, and an immense ditch. Remains of the 
former are still visible, and the latter will probably: 
endure till the destruction of " the great globe itself 



[ 320 3 

u and all which it inherit. '* It is generally believed 
(and seemingly with truth) to have been constructed 
by the Danes ; and from its name, which signifies 
the castle of the palace, as well as some appearances 
m its area, may be considered as a permanent fortified 
residence of some Scandinavian chief, who for a 
time ruled over the adjacent district. The diameter 
of the inclosed space is 400 feet. 

To this, at the distance of two miles, succeeded 
another remain of antiquity, though perhaps of more 
recent date : a series of nine rude stones, called the 
Nine Sisters. They are placed in a rectilinear posi- 
tion, stretching from north to south ; three of them 
remaining upright as they were originally, and the 
remainder lying on the ground. We were inclined 
to attribute them to the Danes, (who visited Corn- 
wall in the ninth century, both as friends and foes,) 
on two accounts, first, because the number nine was 
sacred in Runic mythology,* and secondly, because 



* See Adam of Bremen in Grotii prolegom. 104 ; and Mal- 
let's Northern Antiq. passim. Amongst the ancient Scandi- 
navians a solemn festival was held every nine years, when 
nine animals of every species were sacrificed to their gods. 
Odin too, we are told, resolving to die as a warrior before the 
approach of old age and infirmity, called a general assembly 
of the Goths, and gave himself nine mortal wounds before 



C 321 ] 

it was the custom of this people to mark the scene of 
vi&ory, and places of interment, with upright stones* 
The highest of these monuments did not appear to 
have stood more than eight feet out of the ground ; 
and was greatly eclipsed in grandeur by a solitary 
stone about a mile and a half further on, which rose 
from a circular basin to the height of sixteen feet. It 
is an unchisseled mass of moor-stone, with no other 
symptom of its having suffered from the battery of 
ten thousand tempests, than being removed a little 
out of its perpendicular. Its situation is desolate, 



them, of which he died. The same veneration of the num- 
ber Nine is to be found amongst the Tartars. All present 
made to their princes consist, in general, of nine of each arti- 
cle. At all their feasts this number and its combinations are 
always attended to in their dishes of meat, and in their skins 
of liquor. At one entertainment, mentioned by the Tartar 
King Abulgazi Khan, there were nine thousand sheep, nine 
hundred horses, and ninety-nine vessels of brandy, &c. 
See Richardson's Dissertation, prefixed to his Persic Diction- 
ary j Proofs and Illustrations. This similarity between the 
Tartars and Scandinavians, in a superstitious regard to the 
number nine, is brought by this ingenious author as one 
among other proofs of the latter people being descendants of 
the former. His theory is supported by much sensible reason- 
ing, and has probably its foundation in truth, 

V 



[ 322 ] 

but commands one of the finest views in Cornwall. 
We here caught many a league of the North coast, 
from east to west, with its rocks and harbours ; and 
a vast extent of inland country, diversified by its hills 
and rivers, its towns and villages. Woods alone 
were wanting to give the picture every possible 
diarm ; for though the North of Cornwall is not so 
destitute of timber as the opposite district of the 
county, the eye still craves a larger proportion of it 
than it can find. 

Having accidentally met with a very intelligent 
farmer, we were conduced, through an intricate 
road, to an object of which we had heard much, 
but should probably never have discovered, without 
such a conductor, since its retired situation seems to 
have concealed it even from the prying eye of the 
indefatigable Borlase. It is a Kistvaen,* (or stone 
chest,) of great beauty, and in good preservation, 
standing in a small common field, about a mile and a 
half to the westward of the upright stone just de- 
scribed. Its elaborate structure marks the dignity 
of the person whom it commemorates. An artifi- 
cial barrow appears to have been first raised, about 
forty paces in circumference, in me cemre of which 



* See Frontispiece, 



[ 323 ] 

was left an oblong depression, three feet deep, 
inclosed by upright stones, leaving a vacant space 
for the body, eight feet in length, by three and a 
half over. On the outside of these, nine stones 
were placed in a perpendicular position, which sup- 
ported a flat horizontal one, of irregular form, four- 
teen feet and a half long, eight feet in breadth in the 
broadest part, and about two feet on the average in 
depth. A large fragment of this covering has been 
broken off, and lies at the foot of its parent mass. 
We had no doubt of its Danish original, from the 
reasons given above, as well as from the well-known 
fact of the Druids burning their dead, and the cir- 
cumstance of a receptacle beneath the Kistvaen, 
which was evidently prepared for the purpose of 
receiving the body in its natural state. We were 
much pleased with the objeft itself, and with its 
sequestered situation, and considered it as the finest 
remain of rude antiquity which we had seen in 
Cornwall. 

An agreeable transition of scenery occurred 
shortly after we quitted the Kistvaen. The wild, 
unbroken views, that had so perpetually recurred, 
were now changed for close sequestered glens, which 
the most romantic parts of Devonshire could not 
have rivalled in beauty. The character of the per- 

Y 2 



t 324 ] 

fe& pi&uresque may be justly claimed by the village 
of Little Potherwick, where a rude arch thrown 
over the road, an old mill, an ivied church, and 
several cottages, sprinkled on a very irregular spot 
of ground, produced a most striking and lovely 
effect. The magic of this combination is completed 
by an exuberance of foliage which breaks the forms 
of the obie&s, and only partially admits the light. 
A good road of six or seven miles conducted us to 
Padstow. The beauty of the harbour, on the 
western side of which this town stands, powerfully 
arrested our attention. The tide was at flood, and 
filled the whole of a vast and deep recess, the 
mouth of which being concealed by the juttings of 
the land, the expanse assumed the appearance of a 
noble lake. Had not nature denied it the accom- 
paniment of wood, Padstow harbour would be one 
of the most majestic objects in Britain. The town, 
though not correspondent in beauty, is a place of 
wealth and respectability ; and the liberal spirit of 
its inhabitants is sufficiently visible in the improve- 
ments and accommodations they are forming in its 
neighbourhood. Amongst them may be reckoned 
the walks and plantations of Mr. Rawlings, which 
are executed with taste, and when matured, will be 
sl considerable ornament to the town. Its trade, in 



C 325 ] 

times of peace, is considerable; the exports consisting 
oflarge quantities of fish, and the imports of hemp, 
timber, &c. from Russia, Denmark, and Norway, 
The only object connected with antiquity that 
attracted our notice here was Place, situated a little 
above the town, the residence of Mr. Broom, an 
embattled mansion, apparently of the fifteenth cen- 
tury, uniform and substantial, and capable originally 
of making a respectable defence against the transient 
accidental outrages of barbarous times. The chief 
curiosity, however, in the immediate neighbourhood 
of Padstow is its rocks, honeycombed into romantic 
caverns, and resorted to in fine and warm weather, 
for the purposes of pleasure and enjoyment. But 
woe betide the wretched mariners who are involun- 
tarily driven towards them by the blast of the storm ! 
Escape is hopeless. Their black perpendicular 
heads frown inevitable destruction on every vessel 
that approaches them ; and seldom does one of the 
unhappy crew survive, to tell the horrors of the 
shipwreck ! 



" Again she plunges ! hark ! a second shock 
(< Tears her strong bottom on the marble rock : 
" Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries;, 
" The fated victims shuddering roll their eyes,, 



[ 326 ] 

" In wild despair; while yet another stroke 
" With deep convulsions rends the solid oak : 
" Till, like the mine, in whose infernal cell 
" The lurking daemons of destruction dwell, 
<e At length asunder torn, her frame divides, 
" And crashing spreads in ruin o'er the tides,' 



I am, dear Sir, 

Your's sincerely, 

R. W. 




LETTER VIII, 



TO THE SAME, 



MY DEAR SIR, 



Kilkhampton, Aug. 24, 1808. 



MY Cornish tour has at least added to my stock 
of prudential maxims, and taught me a rule, 
which I shall always observe, — never to attempt 
crossing a strait of water with a horse, when it 
shall be in my power to reach its opposite side by a 
terra firma road, however circuitous the journey 



[ 328 ] 

may be. The harbour of Padstow, at the ferry, is 
somewhat better than half a mile across ; where a 
commodious boat generally plies backwards and for- 
wards to convey travellers and their cattle over the 
passage. Unfortunately, however,, this vehicle hap- 
pened at present to be under repair, and its substitute 
was too small to admit more than one horse at a 
time. W.'s animal, with all the accommodating 
readiness of his master, skipped willingly into the 
boat, and was conveyed over with expedition and 
safety; but alas! no arts of persuasion or compul- 
sion would prevail upon my Rosinante, to follow his 
example when the boat returned. The Exeter 
Hack (for such is his history) was dead to the 
influence of both -, and I found, too late, that the 
most inflexible obstinacy might be enumerated 
amongst his other unfortunate qualities. In this 
dilemma, the boatmen advised me to swim him 
over -, asserting that he would pass the strait in this 
manner with the utmost ease. Ignorance must be 
my excuse for listening to their advice; the steed 
was tied to the stern of the boat, and we launched 
into the deep. We had not proceeded an hundred 
yards, however, before I bitterly repented my folly, 
in giving the animal credit for possessing the proper- 
lies of a Newfoundland dog. Convulsive snortings 
evinced that he was in an element by no means 



[ 329 ] 

natural to him ; and his morion resembled more the 
struggles of death than the art of swimming. He 
turned now on one side, and now on the other, whilst 
the noose w 7 as every moment slipping from his head, 
which the utmost strength of myself and a boat- 
man was hardly sufficient to keep above the water. 
Happily it was dead ebb tide, so that the distance 
between the shores was considerably less than at 
any other time, and no cross current impeded our 
motion. But with all these advantages it was only 
by the greatest exertions we preserved the poor ani- 
mal from becoming the prey of fishes ; and I know 
not that I ever experienced a more lively satisfaction 
than when we brought him safe, though half dead 
with fright and fatigue, to land. The confusion into 
which we were thrown by this adventure entirely 
dissipated from our memory the direction of some 
fair and amiable friends, who had troubled them- 
selves with pointing out to our attention all in and 
around Padstow ; and we forgot to visit St. Enodock, 
which lies to the north of the spot where we disem- 
barked. We regretted this the more, as we under- 
stood that it was a place of great curiosity. The 
violence of the north-westerly gales is continually 
heaprng sheets of sand upon the eastern side of 
Padstow harbour ; and amongst the other depreda- 
tions occasioned by this accumulation, the village of 



[ 330 ] 

St. Enodock, it seems, has been compleatly covered 
by them. The church too would inevitably share 
the same fate, were it not rescued by the piety of its 
successive incumbents, who cannot enjoy the en- 
dowment attached to it unless divine service be 
performed there once every year. To effecl: this 
annual ceremony, the roof of the church is kep«: clear 
of the sand that was on all sides of it, in whkh an 
entrance is made into the body, as well as a sky- 
light, for the convenience of the minister upon this 
singular occasion. The little church of St- Mynver, 
near our place of landing, destitute of neighbouring 
habitations, which probably have been removed or 
overwhelmed, from a similar cause, seems likely in 
time to demand an equal exertion of zeal in its 
minister with that of St. Enodocke 

The deep romantic recesses of the shore on this 
coast of Cornwall form its most striking and pecu- 
liar features. We crossed the sands at the bottom 
of one of these indentations, which, from the terrors 
it holds out to mariners, is denominated Hell-gates. 
A tremendous sea, forced into it by a brisk north- 
easterly wind, lashing its perpendicular rocky sides, 
which reverberated the roar of the conflicting waves, 
afforded us a faint idea of the awful appearance it must 
exhibit under the circumstances of a tempest from 
this quarter of the heavens. We found another of 



[ 331 ] 

these beautiful hollows, but of a less dangerous 
character, about seven miles from Padstow, called 
Port Isaac. It terminates in a little town, crouching 
beneath a high hill to the south, which conceals it 
from the view till a near approach. There is some- 
thing particularly striking in its situation. It seems 
as if it were a little world in itself, and held no com- 
merce with mankind. Port Isaac is, however, a 
place of business, and had not long since (for 
unhappily I must use a past tense when I speak of 
the prosperity of Cornwall) a considerable trade in 
the exportation of pilchards, and slate from Dela- 
bole or Deniball quarry. Five seines are fitted out 
by its merchants, who cure" their fish in two or 
three large cellars built near the town.* 

The celebrated quarry which furnishes so large a 
proportion of the exports of Port Isaac, lies four 
miles to the south-east of that place. This is a very 
singular and curious feature of the country. Riding 
down a steep and rough descent, we found ourselves 
on the edge of a huge excavation, the work of 
human industry, which for an hundred years had 
been occupied in digging the valuable slate from 



* It was from one of these that I formed the description of 
a pilchard cellar in an earlier part of this work. 



[ 332 ] 

its bowels. The rugged precipices on every side, 
the machinery for discharging water from the 
quarry, the different operations of a number of 
labourers, and the shattering of the rock by gun- 
powder> produced a powerful impression upon the 
senses. It was, however, a tame scene compared 
with what it must have displayed a few years 
since, when its labourers were five times as many 
as at present. Dr. Borlase, who saw it under hap- 
pier circumstances, has left us a good description 
of it as it appeared fifty years ago. " The whole 
tfc quarry,' 5 says he, " is about three hundred yards 
fct long and one hundred wide : the deepest part 
4fc from the grass is judged to be forty fathoms : the 
&t strata in the following order: the green sod, one 
C£ foot \ a yellow brown clay, two feet \ then the 
** rock, dipping inwards into the hill towards the 
4t south-west, and preserving that inclination from 
* c top to bottom : at first the rock is in a lax shat- 
€t tery state, with short and frequent fissures, the 
4t lamina of unequal thickness, and not horizontal : 
* c thus the rock continues to the depth of ten or 
* c twelve fathom, all which is good for nothing, 
cc and entirely to be rid oif ; then comes in a firmer 
" brown stone, which becomes still browner in the 
" air : this is fit for slatting houses, and the largest 
* 6 size for flat pavement, never sweating as the cliff 



[333 ] 

6C slat, which is exposed to the sea air. This is 
'* called the top-stone, and continues for ten fathom 
" deep, the stone improving somewhat as you sink, 
" but not at the best till you come to twenty-four 
" fathom deep from the grass ; then rises what they 
cc call the bottom-stone, of a grey blue colour, and 
" such a close texture, that on the touch it will 
" sound clear, like a piece of metal ; the masses are 
" first raised rough from the rock by wedges driven 
6C by sledges of iron, and contain from five to ten, 
cc twelve or fourteen feet, superficial square of 
" stone : as soon as this mass is freed by one man, 
" another stone-cutter, with a strong wide chizel 
" and mallet, is ready to cleave it to its proper thin- 
" ness, which is usually about the eighth of an 
* c inch ; the shivers irregular from two feet long, 
* 6 and one foot wide, downwards, to one foot square 
cc and sometimes (though seldom) dividing into 
" such large flakes as to make tables and tomb- 
cc stones. 

" In this quarry several parties of men work on 
€C separate stages or floors, some twelve fathom 
" from the grass, some twenty, others forty fathom 
ce deep, according to the portion of ground belong ] 
" ing to each party ; the small shattery stone, not 
" fit for covering houses, serves to shore up the 
¥ rubbish, to divide the different allotments, and 



[ 334 ] 



Hi. 



shape the narrow paths up and down the quarry; 
" all the slat is carried with no small danger from 
" the plot where it rises, on men's backs, which 
" are guarded from the weight by a kind of leathern 
" apron, or rather cushion 5 the carrier disposes 
" his charge of stones in rows side by side, till the 
" area allotted to his partners is full, and then 
" horses are ready to take them off, and carry 
" them by tale to the person that buys them. The 
" principal horizontal fissures, which divide the 
" strata, run from ten to fifteen feet asunder ; they 
" are no more than chinks or joints, and contain no 
" heterogeneous fossil. The stone of this quarry 
" weighs to water as 2 — ££. are to 1, is not sub- 
" je£l to rot or decay, to imbibe water, or split with 
" falling, as the bottom-stone of Tintagel, and other 
" quarries ; but for its lightness, and enduring 
4 * weather, is generally preferred to any slat in 
" Great-Britain."* 

We saw one of these slates, the dimensions of 
which were eleven feet in length, and five feet 
in breadth. 



* I have been the more copious in ray extracts from Bor- 
lase's Natural History, because his descriptions are minute 
and accurate - } and because the book has become exceedingly 
scarce. 



f 335 ] 

We had now nearly exhausted all the Cornish 
objects of curiosity; one more interesting remain of 
antiquity, however, demanded our notice, before wc 
quitted this county, which lay five miles from Dela- 
bole quarry, Tintagel Castle, the birth-place 
and chief residence of the immortal Arthur. You, 
I presume, together with all our heretic antiquaries 
of the present day, are sceptical as to the exist- 
ence of this hero ; but we, not to miss the magical 
effeft that imagination might throw over such a 
celebrated scene, determined to " hold each strange 
tale devoutly true," which monkish writers or poets 
had handed down of this ancient assertor of British 
liberty. As we approached its venerable ruins, 
we conjured up all the visions of its ancient magni- 
ficence, its martial splendour, and festal gaiety ; its 
round table begirt with many a hero bold ; its 
masques, its tourneys, and its minstrels ; the triumph 
of Arthur's return to his walls when he came back 
from the conquest of his foes ; and the inauspicious 
omens which attended his fatal march to Camlan's 
ijeld, where he fell by the sword of Mordred; 

" O'er Cornwall's cliffs the tempest roar'd,, 
et High the screaming sea-mew soar'd; 
ct On Tintagel's topmost tow'r 
" Darksome fell the sleety show'r -, 



[ 336 ] 

eg Round the rough castle shrilly sung 
" The whistling blast, and wildly flung 
" On each tall rampart's thund'ring side 
" The surges of the trembling tide : 
" When Arthur rang'd his red-cross ranks^ 
" On conscious Camlan's crimson banks ; 
" By Mordred's faithless guile decreed 
ec Beneath a Saxon spear to bleed !* 

Every feature, indeed, connected with Tintagel 
Castle is formed to foster the flights of fancy. The 
wildest and most desolate tracl of Cornwall is spread 
around the promontory on which it stands ; and its 
immediate approach is through a tremendous glen, 
darkened by shivering shistose rocks, re-echoing the 
noise of quarters' labours, and the thunders of 
the explosions which split the slate from its parent 
bed. The ruins are scattered over a lofty neck of 
land, rent asunder towards the extremity by some of 
" Nature's throes ;" and flanked almost on every 
side by the most awful precipices. No garniture of 
trees or shrubs ; no luxuriant vegetation, the gift of 



* T, Warton's Poems, p. 05. It is whimsical, that by a 
topographical or typographical error, this Castle should be 
placed by Warton (in a note) oh the southern instead of the 
northern coast of Cornwall. 



[ 337 ] 

Nature; or waving harvest, the rich reward of 
human industry, contrast these rugged features : all 
is in perfect, unison ; the ruins of Tintagel Castle 
claim dominion over unqualified desolation; over one 
wide and wild scene of troubled ocean, barren 
country, and horrid rocks. 

The original disposition of these remains, and the 
designation of their particular parts, are now unintel- 
ligible from extreme decay ; but we were sufficiently 
convinced from the appearance of a semi-circular 
arch, a feature of architecture borrowed from the 
Romans, that Borlase was wrong in his conjecture^ 
when he attributed Tintagel Castle to the Britons 
before they were acquainted with that people.* It 
is true, indeed, that its situation is not such an one 
as modern tactics would have pitched upon for a for- 
tress ; since it is overlooked by the rise of its own 
hill to the south-west, and by another rocky eleva- 
tion to the east, on the opposite side of the ravine 



* He says it was " a product of the rudest times, before 
" the Cornish Britons had learnt from the Romans any thing 
" of the art of war." Ant. 353. It must be remembered, 
however, that the Britons had no idea of turning an arch pre- 
viously to their acquaintance with Roman masonry. The flai 
impost was substituted by them, in lieu of this useful archi- 
tectural contrivance, 

z 



[ 338 ] 

I have described. But to these disadvantages may 
be opposed the imperfection of the art of war in 
Britain till the invention of gunpowder, the impreg- 
nable bulwarks which nature had thrown round three 
sides of the promontory of Tintagel, and the faci- 
lity with which the remaining quarter might be 
rendered equally capable of defence against any 
enemy unprovided with cannon. 

These ruins of Tintagel consist of two divisions ; 
one scattered over the face of the main promon- 
tory, and another over the peninsula, which is 
severed from it. The walls of the former are gar- 
retted, and pierced with many little square holes for 
the discharge of arrows. They seem to have included 
within them two narrow courts. At the upper end 
of the most southern of them are the remains of 
several stone steps, leading probably to the parapet 
of the walls. Here the ramparts were high and 
strong ; this being the quarter overlooked by the 
neighbouring hill. As they wound round to west, 
however, less labour had been expended upon their 
structure ; for a hideous precipice of three hundred 
feet deep, to the edge of which they were carried, 
prevented the fear of any assault in that quarter. 
The works on the peninsula had been anciently con- 
nected with those on the main land, by a draw-bridge, 
thrown across a chasm in the division above-men- 



t 339 ] 

tionecL This, however, had gone to decay even in 
Leland's time, when its place was supplied by long 
elm trees laid over the gulph. Since the removal 
of these, all access is denied to men of any pru- 
dence ; and we contented ourselves with a view of 
the ruins from the main land, without attempting to 
imitate the hardihood of our guide, who trod the 
pointed precipices, and skipped over their fissures, 
with the unconcern and agility of an Alpine hunter. 
We found the ascent into the ruins on the main 
sufficiently arduous ; and as this was probably the 
only approach to them, even in the best of days, we 
went away with a full conviction that Tintagel Castle 
must have been in its original state one of the strongest 
specimens of ancient fortification in Britain. 

The recorded history of this fortress may be 
included in a few lines : It continued to be a castle, 
and the occasional residence of the earls of Cornwall, 
to the time of Richard king of the Romans, who en- 
tertained his nephew David prince of Wales within 
its walls. After the death of Richard and his son 
Edmund, however, the sun of its glory set ; its cha- 
racter was changed, and from a palace it became a 
prison. The crown got possession of it, when Bur- 
leigh, lord treasurer to Queen Elizabeth, thinking 
the charge of supporting it greater than the advan- 
tages resulting from it, withdrew the stipends allowed 

7. 2 



[ 340 ] 

for keeping it in repair, and Tintagel Castle sunk 
into ruins. 

The rocks in the neighbourhood of this fortress 
afford abundance of fine slate. It is shipped off 
from a little creek at the bottom of the ravine above 
described; but as lofty precipices rear themselves 
on every side of this recess, except on that which is 
open to the ocean, the freight is lowered down by a 
crane and tackle, from the labourers above to the 
sailors below ; all other means of loading the ves- 
sels being precluded by the singular character of 
the cove. 

Of all the villages and towns of Cornwall which 
we had seen, we considered Tintagel as most dreary 
and exposed. Unsheltered and unornamented, its 
situation and aspect quite chilled us, and we could 
not help acknowledging there was some truth in the 
bold metaphorical remark of a London writer, who 
had strolled down to this corner of Cornwall, when 
we were there, that " to look at it was enough to 
give one the tooth-ach." # But what little influence 



* The parsonage mansion (if our enquiry about some ruins 
near the village were answered with correctness) must have 
been a respectable building in former times. This at least 
we concluded from a Gothic gale-way and other remains we 
observed on the spot. 



[ 341 ] 

have the accidental circumstances of local situation 
on the minds of those who are accustomed to them. 
Happiness may be found at Tintagel, as well as in 
the most favoured spots. 



- - <c Quod petis hie est, 

" Est Ulubris ; animus si non deficit cequus." 

This I ought to have known, without learning it 
from a Cornish peasant ; to whom I put the ironical 
question, " Whether Tintagel were not a pleasant 
" place in winter ?" c Yes, sir/ replied he, c we 
6 think so ; tis good enough for us ; and were it 
* not for the war and taxes, we should want nothing 
c beyond what we have.' This is no flourish of 
the fancy ; it was the actual and keen reproof of 
dignified content \ proudly independent on those 
adventitious circumstances, without which minds 
less properly regulated than the honest labourer's 
would be miserable. 

We did not quit the coast till we had visited Bos- 
siney or Boss Castle, in hopes of finding some 
remains of the ancient castle of the Lord Bot- 
reaux, who formerly possessed an ample domain 
in this quarter, and gave name to the town where 
their chief residence was placed. But no vestige qf 
the edifice was to be seen; and the only visible 
proof of its having existed was the circular mound on 



[ 342 ] 

which the keep formerly stood. As the heiress of 
this house was married in the time of Henry VI. to 
Robert Lord Hungerford, whose possessions lay a 
hundred miles to the eastward of Boss Castle, it is 
probable that this period was the sera of its decay. 
No attention was paid to so distant a mansion, and it 
soon sunk into ruins. A hill, a mile in lengthy 
opposed itself to our steeds when we left Bossiney 3 
of bad omen, it seems, to the horses of these parts: 
For an honest peasant, who joined us as we panted 
up it, declared that it had broken the wind of more 
of these useful animals, than any other in Cornwall. 
From its summit the country began to mend, exhi- 
biting the successful labours of man in a productive 
husbandry. Indeed* all the way from Padstow the 
inland view had been cheerful, spreading itself under 
the eye in an extensive valley, which, though 
naked of magnificent wood, was spotted with vil- 
lages, churches, and little patches of trees. 

To a believer in the personality of Arthur, the 
neighbourhood of Camelford would be interesting 
from the circumstances of the battle said to have been 
fought here between the British chieftain and his 
treacherous nephew Mordred, in which the former 
was slain, and his forces routed. Camelford, how- 
ever, exhibits no heroes or patriots now, for it has 
long been a Cornish borough* But though destitute 



[ 543 ] 

of public virtue, it pays due court to fashion. The 
maid of our inn, a very lovely girl, was dressed in 
the pink of the mode ; and exhibited as much of her 
fair skin as any female paragon of the Upper Rooms 
could do. We observed, indeed, that this affe&a- 
tion in dress was not confined to her, but extended 
to every girl of the inferior classes that passed our 
window. The contrast was whimsical between such 
fashionable attire, and the wretched hovels in which 
the fine folks dwelt. Camelford, however, has one 
decent structure; the market-bouse, built by the 
late Duke of Bedford, in whom the borough vested. 
It is surrounded by a cupola, from which springs a 
gilt camel, serving the purposes of a weather-cock. 
W — pointed it out as a good emblem of the voters 
of Camelford, and its gaily-dressed females ; the one 
speechless, and patient under every variation of the 
political atmosphere ; and the other, satisfied by a 
little external splendour under the privation of 
almost all the comforts of life. 

It was fortunate for us that our tour drew towards 
a conclusion, since the remaining part of Cornwall 
offers very little that is interesting to a traveller. In 
a tedious nine miles between Camelford and the 
dirty solitary inn at Wainhouse, nothing occurred 
to attract our attention, or divert us from the turn- 
pike, except Werbstrow borough ; about one mile to 



[ 344 J 

the south-west of the latter place, an immense 
Roman camp, in good preservation ; a vestige pro- 
bably of the triumphs of Agricola, who in his fifth 
campaign in Britain seems first to have reduced 
Cornwall under the yoke of Rome. The country 
mended, indeed, as we approached Stratton ; little 
patches of trees again greeted our eyes, and the 
road banks, high and shady, reminded us of Devon- 
shire. The North sea, in the mean while, as if 
determined to afford us the pleasure of contrast, 
spread itself to the left into illimitable extent. It is 
to its shores, at this point of Cornwall, that the many 
gentry and the invalids from Launceston and other 
inland places of the eastern division of the county 
come to bathe, and breathe the sea air in the summer 
months. A decent inn and several neat lodging- 
houses afford them accommodation, at a little creek 
called Bude, about two miles from Stratton. The 
situation, indeed, of the village is not remarkably 
pleasant, as it stands on the borders of a long 
marsh; and not yet having arrived to the refinement 
of bathing machines, the ladies are put to some little 
inconvenience in performing the rites of immersion. 
As a Roman road (whose vestiges are still discern- 
able in a causeway) once ran through Stratton, we 
had no doubt that the place received its name from 
this circumstance 5 which is both an abbreviation 



[ 345 ] 

and corruption of the town of the street. Its cele- 
brity will probably be always confined to the fact of 
its having thus engaged the attention of the masters 
of the world ; for at present there is nothing else la 
it that can fix the attention. 

Desirous of knowing whether the ecclesiastical 
dissentions of Kilkhampton had been healed by the 
lapse of eight years,* we determined to ride thither, 
and then conclude our Cornish tour* The road for 
the first two miles conducted us through a beautiful 
wooded glen, which to eyes long unacquainted with 
the beauties of sylvan scenery, afforded both relief 
and enjoyment. Tameness, however, succeeded for 
the remaining seven miles ; but we did not repent 
our ride, when we found the bells of Kilkhampton 
again restored to their ancient managers, and the 
feuds of the sexton, clerk, and ringers, hushed into 
peace. 

Though I have thus conducted you to the north- 
eastern extremity of Cornwall, I cannot relieve you 
immediately from the fatigue of my correspondence. 
Gratitude to the inhabitants of a county which has 
afforded me so much amusement, compels me to add 
to my last letter a few particulars which may more 



* Vide Warner's Western Walk, p. 137, 138, 



[ 346 j 

fully illustrate the character Gf themselves and the 
district on which they reside, than the general 
observations scattered through my former pages. 

You are already acquainted with the face and 
appearance of the country ; and must have remarked 
that however valuable it may be in a commercial 
point of view, it can offer no claim to the praise of 
the picturesque or beautiful. As external charms, 
however, will bear no comparison with intrinsic 
worth, so the concealed riches of Cornwall make 
ample amends for the deformity of her exterior ; and 
even those parts not enriched by mines excite some 
admiration, from the triumph which they exhibit of 
man's industry over a poor and scanty soil. The 
greatest length of the county is 7 84- miles, and its 
broadest diameter 43A ; an area including nearly 
33,000 dwellings, and upwards of 189,000 inhabi- 
tants. A great part of this space is occupied by bare 
and rugged hills, descending into bleak and barren 
moors, and extending (in the narrowest part of the 
county) from one sea to the other. The districls 
less hostile'to vegetation, are rendered produ&ive by 
persevering labour, good husbandry, and the aid of 
marine manure, — the sand of the shores, and the 
weed of the beach. From its being nearly sur- 
rounded by the sea, the atmosphere of Cornwall is 
mcist; but the mildness occasioned by the same 



[ 347 ] 

circumstance balances this inconvenience ; and 
though the hills of the inland parts, and the lofty 
cliffs which breast its oceans, intercept the mists 
and clouds, and bring them down in frequent rains, 
yet the constant variation and violence of the winds 
which assault it from every quarter, prevent all 
pernicious stagnation of the air, and render it, pos- 
sibly, the most healthy county in England.* The 



* Carew, who lived in Queen Elizabeth's reign, observes,, 
touching the temperature of Cornwall, " the ayre thereof 
" is cleansed, as with bellowes, by the billows, and flowing 
tc and ebbing of the sea, and therethrough becommeth pure 
" and subtle ; and by consequence, healthfull. So as the 
" inhabitants do seldome take a ruthful and reaving expe- 
" rience of those harmes which infectious diseases use to 
" carry with them," p. 5 ; and again, p. 6l, he remarks, 
" that eighty and ninety years of age was ordinary in every 
te place 5" and among other instances of longevity names one 
Polzew, who died a little while before he was writing, aged 
one hundred and thirty. Borlase also observes, that ** Mr. 
" Scawen, a gentleman of no less veracity, in his MS. tells us, 
c( that in the year 1676, died a woman in the parish of Gwy- 
" thien (the narrowest, and therefore, as to the air, to be reck- 
i( oned among the saltest parts of this county) one hundred and 
" sixty-four years old, of good memory, and healthful at that 
" age; and at the Lizherd, where (exposed as this promontory 
{< is to more sea on the east, west, and south, than any part 
" of Britain) the air must be as salt as any where, there are 



[ 348 ] 

only disadvantage resulting from these peculiarities 
of the atmosphere in Cornwall is, that the degree 
and continuance of the summer and autumnal heat 
appear to be insufficient to bring any grain, except 
barley, to complete maturity. The inhabitants of 
Cornwall, like their climate, are marked by peculiar 
features of characler. Its men are sturdyj and 
bold, honest and sagacious ; its women lovely and 



" three late instances of people living to a great age : The 
" first is Mr. Cole, late minister of Landawidnec, (in which 
e< parish the Lizherd is) who by the parish register, A. D. 
" 1683, appears to have been above one hundred and twenty 
cf year old when he died. Michael George, late sexton of 
* c the same parish, buried the 20th of March, ibid, was more 
" than a hundred years old j and being at the Lizherd with 
€e the Rev. and worthy Dr. Lyttelton, dean of Exeter, in the 
cr year 1/52, we went to see a venerable old man called 
« r Collins ; he was then one hundred and five years old, of a 
" florid countenance, stood near his door leaning on his staff, 
C( talked sensibly, was weary of life he said, and advised us 
* f never to wish for old age. He died in the year 1754." 

f It is to be observed of the regiment of Cornish Militia, 
when at Chatham camp, in the time of Col. Molesworth, 
that they stood on more ground than any other militia of the 
same number of men. This was attributed to the breadth of 
their shoulders, which, in comparison with the Eastern men,, 
was uncommonly striking. — P-elwhete. 



[ 349 ] 

modest, courteous and unaffecled. Their hospitality 
was a subject of encomium as far back as the time 
Diodorus Siculus;* nor had we reason to think 
that the lapse of eighteen centuries had diminished 
this virtue amongst them in the slightest degree. 
The fair complexion and light hair of a large pro- 
portion of the population proved their Celtic 
extraction jf though we observed towards the west- 
ern extremity of the county many instances of so 
remarkable a deviation from this general personal 
appearance, as convinced us, there must have been, 
at sometime or other, an importation of a breed into 
the county very different to its original inhabitants. 
The persons I allude to are not indeed very nume- 
rous ; but of features sufficiently marked to be 
readily distinguished from the genuine Cornish. 
They are characterized by large black eyes, hair of 



* Tys yxg (3gETlxvtx.Y)S xxrx ro xxguTYiqiov ro HOiXn{A.£Vdv ffoXsgtov 01 

xxrotKuvTzs ■ q>to*o'&voi re 5<a<p?f aim* man. Those who live near a 
promontory of Britain called Bolerium, are peculiarly hos- 
pitable. Lib. v. p. 301. It was a remark of Queen Elizabeth, 
" that the Cornish gentlemen were all born courtiers, with a 
<£ becoming confidence." — Borlases Nat. Hist. p. 304, 

-f~ Tons £e cagi-i xx9vgyoi v.at Aeukoi — 

TottS $S KO^XIS SK$V7ZWS %xvQji, Ih » 



[ 350 ] 

the same colour, and swarthy complexions. A con- 
trast so decided as this, evidently points at some 
peculiar cause, and requires an explanation. But 
where shall we obtain it ? I am too much prejudiced 
in favour of the county to consider these people as 
descendants of the yews, who settled in some num- 
bers in Cornwall in the twelfth century. I would 
fain give them a more ancient and honourable origin ; 
and I shall not, perhaps, find much difficulty in 
effecting this to your satisfaction. I have before 
remarked, it is extremely probable, from the intimate 
intercourse which so long subsisted between the 
Cornish and Cadizians, that the latter people would 
form settlements on various parts of the western 
coasts of the county. I would now, however, go 
further, and aver, that this is nearly demonstrable 
from the names of several places towards this point, 
which are genuine Hebrew ,* and could only have 



* Such as Parav-zahulon, — Phillack, — Menachan, — Ze- 
phon, — Bdnitlion, — Marah-zion, (if it be not a corruption of 
another name,; &c. &c. That the language of the Cadizians,, 
who visited the coast of Cornwall , was a dialect of Hebrew, may 
be fairly inferred from this single circumstance, viz. that He- 
brew was the vernacular tongue of the Carthaginians, which 
they had brought with them from Phoenicia, and which con- 
sequently their colonists carried with them to any place in 



[ 351 ] 

been imposed by people to whom that language 
was familiar. The Cadizians, we have seen, were a 
colony from Carthage ; and Carthage, we know, 
was peopled from Tyre. It is needless to observe 



which they formed a settlement. Of the identity, or at least 
intimate connection of the Hebrew and Carthaginian lan- 
guages, we have a most curious proof, in the Pcenulus of Plau= 
tus. Vide quarto Delph. edit. In this play, Hanno, a Cartha- 
ginian, is represented as having had two daughters, who had 
been surprized and carried off by Pyrates, together with their 
nurse, and sold to a person of Calydon, in iEtolia. Having 
travelled a long time in search of his children, Hanno at 
length reached the place where they are, and is made by the 
poet to invoke the tutelary deities of the country in his own 
language, The commencement of his speech is as follows : 

Ny ethalonim valon uth si corathisima consith. 

On these words the learned Selden, makes the following- 
observations : " Tarn clara heic Ebraismi vestigia sunt, ut 
(r caetera, quae depravatissima ibi sequuntur, eidem etiam 
f< idiotismo restitui debere merito censeas. Et quae attuli- 
" mus, Hannonis exaranda forsan erant, ei qui sermonem 
<( ilium a lepidissimo Poeta illuc tradu&um librarius primum 
* transcripserit, his paene syllabis - } 

N& ethelionim velionoth se quara otham makom hazoth ; 

« quae parum a corruptis Plautinis exemplaribus dissident si 
" ineptas scilicet juncturas, atque imperitas verborum dis- 
" tin6tiones tollas ; et Consith in veteribus nonnullis editioni- 



[ 352 ] 

that the features and complexion of the people of 
Pales r ine were similar to those which I have just 
mentioned as characterizing some of the inhabitants 
of Cornwall, and it would be equally unnecessary 



" bus comzet legitur, quod proprius accedit. Sic autem 
ce mere Ebraica sunt ; et rythmus ab eum quem protulimus 
<( sonum ita scribeiidus ; 



: nxm sipft ona *npp 

fC Id est, si verbum verbo reddideris 

" Obsecro superos superasque 
o£ Quibus contingit locus iste." 

Sel. de Bus Syris. Prolegomena. 10. 

I am not ignorant that Coll. Vallency and Sir Lawrence 
Parsons', in an honourable zeal for the antiquity of their own 
country, have enlisted the Punic fragments of Plautus in their 
cause, and by improved readings have assimilated them very 
much to the ancient Irish language. But granting that they 
are justified in their alterations, there still remains even in 
these, too great a resemblance to the Hebrew, to leave a 
doubt on the mind of the affinity .between the two. The 
probability, indeed is, that both Selden and the Irish anti- 
quaries are right ; that the Punic was the lineal descendant j 
and the Celtic, a collateral branch of the Phoenician ; and 
that both had their origin either immediately, or indire&ly, 
from the Hebrew or Chaldee, the original language 
of MAN, 



[ 353 ] 

to remark, that if they settled there, they must leave 
descendants who would inherit the same persona! 
peculiarities. Such is my explication of the senigma; 
I know not what value it will have in your esteem, 
but it satisfies my mind, because it saves the honour 
of my friends. 

Nothing proves the natural understanding and 
sagacity of the inhabitants of Cornwall more than 
the number of provincial proverbs which are float- 
ing amongst them ; the results of good sense, and 
nice observation acting upon experience ; applying 
to the transactions of public as well as private life j 
and including both axioms of political wisdom, and 
maxims of moral conduct. Amongst the former we 
may enumerate the following : Cows nebas, cows da, 
nebas an yevern yw an gwella : Speak little, speak 
well ; little of public matters is best. Nyn ges gun 
heb lagas, na kei heb scovern : There is no down 
without an eye, nor hedge without ears. Cows 
nebas, cows da, ha da veth cowsas arta : Speak 
little, speak well, and well be spoken again. — From 
the adages which enforce common prudence and 
morality, we may select these: Quel yw guetha vel 
goosen • It is better to keep" than to beg. Neb na 
gare y gwyan coll restouas: He that heeds not gain, 
must expect loss. Neb na gare y gy, an gwra de~ 
seeder: He that regards not his dog, will make him 

A A 



[ 354 ] 

it sheep-killer. Gura da, rag ta hotian te yn gura : 
Do good ; for thyself thou doest it. Po rez deberra 
an bez, vidu beer at h a sem ; po res dal an vor, na 
orenpan a tu> tburyan, houl zethas, go gletb, po debow : 
When thou comest into the world, length of sorrow 
follows y when thou beginnest the way, 'tis not 
known which side ; to the east or west, to the 
north or south. Der taklow minniz ew brez tee% 
gonvetbes, avelan taklow broaz ; dreffen en tack- 
low broazy ma en gymennow betba go honnen ; bus in 
iacklow minnis, etna en gye suyab baz go bonnen : By 
small things are the minds of men discovered better 
than by great matters \ because in great things they 
will accommodate themselves, but in small matters 
they follow their own nature. 

I have adduced these traditionary sayings amongst 
the Cornish, not only as proofs of the popular wis- 
dom of the county, but as specimens of a language 
which, if not totally extinguished, has long ceased to 
be the vehicle of oral communication, and is now 
retained in the recollection of only one or two indi- 
viduals.* Its analogy to the old Welsh will instantly 



* It should seem from Mr, Whitaker's account, that the 
ancient Cornish is still blown to two persons in the county, 
" I even heard in my visit to the west, of two persons still 
" alive that could speak the Cornish language. Qn my offet 



[ 255 ] 

suggest the intimate connexion that originally sub- 
sisted between the two ; and satisfy us, that, like 
the Irish, Erse, Armorican, and Cambriaidanguages, 
it is nothing more than a dialed of the ancient 
Celtic or Gaelic! Almost hypothetical as its ex- 

<e of English money for Cornish words, to the men at the 
" Land's-End, they referred me to an old man living about 
" three miles off to the south, at St. Levan, (I think,) a 
•' second chapelry with St. Sennan, in the parish of St.Burian,- 
<( and intimated, that I might there have as many words of 
<c Cornish as I would chuse to purchase. On my return 
" also to Penzance, Mr. Broad, (captain of a volunteer com- 
( - pany of sea-fencibles,) additionally assured me, that there 
" was a woman then living at Newlyn, who could equally 
w speak Cornish." — Polwheles Hist. Corn, vol. iii. sup. 42. 

f Daines Barrington says, fe My brother, Captain (now 
u Admiral) Barrington, who brought with him a French East- 
u India ship into Mount's Bay, A. D. 17-46, told me, that 
" when he sailed from thence on a cruize towards the French 
" coast, he took with him from that part of Cornwall a sea- 
" man who spoke the Cornish language, and who was under- 
" stood by some French seamen of the coast of Bretagne, 
" with whom he afterwards happened to have occasion to 
" converse."— A rchaologi a, vol. iii. p. 280. We were told 
at Truro, that fifty years ago two Welsh gentlemen who 
were in that town, being introduced to a Cornish man that 
spoke the old language of that county, had a conversation 
with him in their respective tongues, and that they were 
very intelligible to each other. 



[ 356 ] 

istence is at present, yet so late as the time of 
Henry VIII. it was the universal dialed of the 
county, and Dr. John Moreman, vicar of Menhyn- 
net, towards the conclusion of that reign, was the 
first who taught his parishioners the Lord's Prayer, 
Creed,andTen Commandments, in theEnglish tongue. 
It is a curions exception to that general rule of the 
attachment manifested by nations or provinces to 
their vernacular language, that the Cornish, at the 
Reformation, 4 requested to have the liturgy in Eng- 
lish, rather than in their mother tongue. The 
request was complied with, and the service in most 
places performed thenceforth in English. A few 
parishes, however, patriotically preferred their native 
dialect; and, in 1640, Mr. William Jackson, vicar 
of Pheoke, found himself under the necessity of 
administering the sacrament in Cornish, as his parish- 
ioners understood no other language. From this 
period its limits were gradually circumscribed, as its 
trade and intercourse with England increased ; so 
that a century since it was only to be found, as a 
vehicle of conversation, amongst the inhabitants of 
Paul's and St. Just, in the western extremity of the 
county.* Mr. Dames Barrington made a journey 

* Mr. Ray, in his Itineraries, p. 281, tells us, " that Mr. 
" Dickan Gwyn was considered as the only person who could 



r 357 ] 



into Cornwall, in search, of its remains, in 17685 
but could find only one person, Dolly Pentreath, 
an old fisher-woman, at Mousehole, who %poke 
Cornish.f It is evident, from more recent researches^ 
that his enquiries were not so successful as they 
might have been, had he possessed more knowledge 
than he did of the subject that engaged his atten- 
tion ;* but their result may also convince us that 

" then write in the Cornish language, and who lived in one 
¥ of the most western parishes, called St. Just, where there 
*' were few but what could speak English ; whilst few of the 
'.* children also could speak Cornish, so that the language 
U. would soon be entirely lost." — Archaol. vol. iii. p. 2jg. 

•f She died in January 17/S, at Mousehole, aged 102. 

. * Mr. Barrington has given us the following account of 
his expedition to Dolly Pentreath's cottage, and his interview 
with the venerable poissard : e< I set out from Penzance, with. 
<c the landlord of the principal inn for my guide, towards 
" the Sennan, or most western point, and when I approached 
" the village, I said, that there must probably be some 
iS remains of the language in those parts, if any where, as the 
" village was in the road to no place whatsoever ; and the 
" only ale-house announced itself to be the last in England. 
<c My guide, however, told me, that I should be disappointed $ 
" but that if I would ride ten miles about in my return to 
" Penzance, he would cany me to a village, called Mouse- 
t( hole, on the western side of Mount's Bay, where there was 
<e an old woman, called Dolly Fentreath, who could speak 



[ 358 2 

tarty years ago the faculty of speaking the language 
was exceedingly limited. Notwithstanding our 
most assiduous enquiries, we were unable to disco- 
ver any one who spoke it at present j though from 
Whitaker's account, we had no doubt that it still 
lurked in some hole or corner, arrived to the last 
fluttering pulse of its existence, and doomed pro^ 
bably to give up the ghost, without being again 

** Cornish very fluently. Whilst we were travelling together 
*' towards Mousehole, I enquired how he knew that this 
** woman spoke Cornish, when he informed me, that he fre- 
f quently went from Penzance to Mousehole to buy fish, 
** which were sold by her y and that when lie did not offer a 
* c price which was satisfactory', she grumbled to some other 
" old women in an unknown tongue, which he concluded 
* c therefore to be the Cornish. — When we reached Mouse- 
" hole, I desired to be introduced as a person who, had laid a 
" wager that there was no one who could converse in Cornish ; 
f* upon which Dolly Pentreath spoke in an angry tone of 
**' voice for two or three minutes, and in a language which 
** sounded very like Welsh. — The hut in which she lived was 
" in a very narrow lane, opposite to two rather better cot- 
*' tages, at the doors of which two other women stood, who 
•* were advanced in years, and who I observed were laughing 
•* at what Dolly Pentreath said to me.— Upon this I asked 
*■ them whether she had not been abusing me , to which they 
** answered, very heartily, and because I had supposed she 
•' could not speak Cornish. I then said, that they must be 
• abk to talk the language; to which they answered, that 



t 3^9 } 

brought forward into public notice. With me 
disappearance of their language, the Cornish have 
lost almost all those provincial peculiarities in cus* 
toras and amusements, which distinguished them 
from the inhabitants of other English counties* 
Their dangerous wrestling and hurling matches arc 
now of much rarer occurrence than heretofore ; the 
spirit of sport has nearly evaporated, and that of 
industry supplied its place. The occupations in the 
mining countries fill up the time of those engaged in 
them too effectually to allow leisure for prolonged 
revels, or frequent festivities ; and in the other 
parts of Cornwall, the constant 'pursuits of steady 
labour have banished the traditional times and sea* 
sons of vulgar riot and dissipation. Though the 

" they could not speak it readily ; but that they understood 
xt it, being only ten or twelve years younger than Dolly ?en- 
" tfeath. I continued nine or ten days in Cornwall aftef 
c< this ; but found that my friends, whom I had left tc the 
" the eastward, continued as incredulous almost as they were 
" before, about these last remains of the Cornish language, 
*' because (amongst other reasons) Dr. Borlase had supposed, 
" in his Natural History of the county, that it had entirety 
" ceased to be spoken; it was also urged, that as he lived 
«« within four or five miles of the old woman at Housebote, 
«* he consequently must have heard of so singular a thing as 
- r continuing to use the vernacular tongue"— ArchaaL 
III. p. 180, 182, 



[ 360 ] 

husbandry of the Cornish be not yet arrived to that 
systematic excellence which many other counties can 
boast ; yet of their dairies let no man speak but in 
terms of the highest eulogy. If the praise of Here- 
fordshire cider, and Oxford ale, deserve to be 
sung in Miltonic verse,* the Clouted Cream f of 
Cornwall puts in still more substantial claims to the 
notice of the lofty muse. Devonshire had regaled 
us with this delicious article, before we reached 
Cornwall, but as soon as we had tasted the clouted 
cream of the latter, accompanied by the excellent 
cofFee which we found at every, inn throughout the 
county, we acknowledged it was only here that this 
production could be had in perfection. 



* Philips, and T. Warton. 

•f The usual method of making Clouted Cream is as fol- 
lows: The milk is suffered to stand twelve hours, or longer 
if necesary, till the cream, which naturally separates from it, 
Jloat to its surface. It is then put over a charcoal stove, (an 
improvement upon the method of the old housewives, who 
performed the process over the kitchen fire, whence it con- 
traded a smoaky taste,) and submitted to a heat that pro- 
duces boiling as nearly as possible. Here it continues till it 
be thoroughly scalded, when tit is taken off, returned to the 
dairy, and in about ten or twelve hours a thick crust of 
cream rises to the surface of the vessel, which is the excel- 
lent article in question. 



[ 361 ] 

The varied luxuries of the Cornubian dairies, 
indeed, were so delicious, as greatly to increase our 
respect and value for the gentle beast by whose 
udder they were supplied ; and we should, without 
the least hesitation, have placed the cow at the head 
of the English domesticated animals, had we not recol- 
lected the many and powerful claims of the horse to 
this preference ; who not only administers to our 
pleasure, convenience, and ease ; performs with wil- 
lingness the drudgery appointed him to compleat ; 
enhances the pleasure of our sports, and accelerates 
the transactions of our business ; but, what is more 
than all, conveys us, with rapidity and safety, when 
separated from it by distance, into the bosom of that 
family, without whose participation no enjoyment 
can be complete; without whose society, novelty 
itself soon ceases to interest \ and all that is beau- 
tiful, gay, and magnificent in external nature, if it 
do not become insipid, loses at least half its power 
to charm. 

I am, dear Sir, 

Tour's sincerely, 

R.W. 



£ B 



[ 362 ] 



In addition to the facts produced in favour of 
the migration of Woodcocks, I had forgotten, 
whilst mentioning that subject, to adduce a circum- 
stance relative to the history of this bird, as con- 
nected with the LandVEnd, which would greatly 
have strengthened the affirmative of the question. 
We were told by our guide that two winters ago, 
the wind suddenly shifting to the north-east, when 
these birds were on their passage to England, and 
blowing strongly from that quarter, the poor voyagers 
were exhausted before they could reach the land, 
and falling into the sea, were drowned, drifted on 
shore, and picked up, in vast numbers, by the pea- 
santry. A modern poet has prettily adverted to a 
casualty, which it should seem, not unfrequently 
attends the migration of the woodcock. 



- - - - _ « m f ares if- w j t jj him then, 

" On stormy seas mid- way surpriz'd : no land, 
<e Its swelling breast presents, where safe reclin'd 
*' His panting heart might find a short repose 5 
f? But wide around, the hoarse resounding sea 
" Meets his dim-eye. Should some tall ship appear 



[ 363 ] 

fc High-bounding o'er the waves, urg'd by despair, 

" He seeks the rocking masts, and throws him down 

" Amid the twisted cordage: — thence repell'd, 

" If instant blows deprive him not of life, 

i( He flutters weakly on, and drops at last, 

" Helpless and flound'ring, in the whit'ning surge." 

Fowling, a Poem, in five books. 
Cadeil and Davies. 1808. 




Richard Cruttwcll, Printer, Stamp-Office, St, James's-Sueet, Bath. 






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